Breath
Weather became my first language for grief. Storms arrived without warning. Fog obscured what was once familiar. Light returned slowly, often quietly. These photographs are not of weather alone, but of the atmosphere grief creates within us and we slowly learn to live with.
 
breath
 
this is where the air returns
 
 
ARCHIVAL PRINTS ARE AVAILABLE BY INQUIRY. IF AN IMAGE STAYS WITH YOU, I LOOK FORWARD TO HEARING FROM YOu.