On my first security round of the week, the eyes came to me. I kept remembering the eyes of the people I have met during my photographic experiences. The young Vietnamese brothel workers in Poipet Cambodia, the damaged young lady in the dump in Mae Sot Thailand, the child boxers in Bangkok's Klong Toey slum, the young street kids in Kathmandu Nepal and of course the photo I am preparing for 2 shows of dad on one of the last days of his life. I can still remember so clearly being with my father that day, his eyes looking so big, sad and scared.
I keep seeing all their eyes, they flow through my mind today and other days, quite often, sometimes too often. It is haunting, I cannot forget them. I feel I am not living up to my responsibilities to tell their stories, these important stories maybe only I know about. Not sure why I feel I have that responsibility but I do, I feel it deeply. Every day that I am pissing away my time and not making pictures is lost forever.
I keep seeing all their eyes, they flow through my mind today and other days, quite often, sometimes too often. It is haunting, I cannot forget them. I feel I am not living up to my responsibilities to tell their stories, these important stories maybe only I know about. Not sure why I feel I have that responsibility but I do, I feel it deeply. Every day that I am pissing away my time and not making pictures is lost forever.
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| Dad watching me, February 2014 a week or so before he died. |
