e.P.

With each story I capture, I am offering you the chance to tangibly hold history in your hands for generations after us.

When I die, you won’t remember me. You won’t remember the time I spent editing your images, the gear I used. Memories will fade with time.

What will remain are the images you’ve hung on your walls, kept in a box or a book. You’ve shown them to your children, your grandchildren, your friends - they’ve been around longer than me.

Maybe they’re dusty, scratched, wrinkled, or ripped with a little tape. Regardless of their state, when you look at them, I hope you remember the little details.

The smell of her perfume, the feel of his shirt, the flaky newborn toes, the tiny human giggles, the wind, the warmth, the closeness. I hope you remember it all.