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.