Second best

The poems flowed from her lips, floated on the air, and landed densely on perched ears. We were listening, waiting for the poet’s words to move us from the pit of our souls. And did she move. Around the stage, into the audience, perhaps even into our hearts. Her words tied her thoughts like raffia, just tight enough to hold them together, but loosely enough to change their formation.

It was then when I decided I wanted to have my pictures impact others the way her words impacted me. She told a story, but did so indirectly. I want my pictures to tell a story where words are unheard, but emotion emanates from their sloppy borders.

Before the show, we hunkered in a dark corner of a Hillcrest sushi restaurant. With the warm towels distributed, we wiped our hands and immediately began picking at the garlic pan-fried edamame. As each one of us sucked the soy beans, we discussed Foucault and the impact he had in philosophy. Just as things were getting interesting, the conversation only got better when the gyozas were served. We dipped into many things—the ponzu sauce included—but what interested me the most was how wonderful my friends were.

My friends make me a better person. Furthermore, I know they’ll make me a better photographer. They challenge my perspective, both figuratively and literally, and this impacts how I capture an image.

Brianna leaned over the table and stole a piece of Melanie’s sushi. Why didn’t you steal the shrimp’s end piece, Melanie asked. You took the best piece from the middle, she scolded Brianna. So, Brianna said, you know I wouldn’t take the worst piece.

That pretty much sums my friends up. They won’t settle for second best. Knowing this, it makes me happy to be their friend.