a year in photographs 2022
january
i ring in the new year with covid at our heels. it seems like everyone around us is falling sick, but it makes way for quiet contemplation for all the newness abound.
i move into an apartment with slanted floors and make a bed out of pallets i bought off facebook marketplace. my morning routine includes begrudgingly editing tiktoks for work in bed.
february
back in san francisco: one week of munis, overabundantly hip coworking spaces, an airbnb above burma superstar, and endless negative tests. i have a distinct distaste for this old life of mine but am forced to realize that it very much still is my current.
in atlanta, a lot of scheming occurs next to what we call ‘the smoking window.’ many dreams are written down on paper.
march
i start working part time at bakeries and move into a shared art studio space that eventually is home to our film lab. we build and build and life becomes naturally rhythmic.
my dark, empty apartment makes me feel trapped.
april
during a trip from denver to dc, i begin to understand that it is not my apartment but, rather, my career that is making me feel trapped. i solidify my decision to leave tech again... this time with more confidence that it will for good.
from there on out, my days are consumed by thoughts of the film lab, long walks underneath spring blooms, and connecting with family.
may
the city warms up and ushers us into the outside world.
june
sweet & sweat-drenched.
july
the days feel like they go on forever. we go to new york to soak in swelter + loved ones. in atlanta, i learn to pray.
august
august is a gentle cool down from the height of summer. a lot of atlanta firsts, like the high museum and eddie's attic and looking at houses we can’t afford.
september
there is so much excitement spilling over the edges of september that it falls right through my memory.
i am drunk off white wine & jaeger and chasing ducks along the dark coast. i say, i don’t think i’ll be able to remember all the things we’re talking about. and you say, it’s okay, it can be just for us for now.
later in the month, merlin the cat arrives from california.
october
there is celebration after celebration, from birthday paella to autumn foliage, halloween costumes to new homes.
november
an accident lands me in the ER with a left hand too cut up to use. elections happen, thanksgiving is full, opportunities unfurl, but uneasiness plants itself in the pit of my stomach and spurls into my dreams.
i lose my camera.
december
the fast-moving year catches up to me and all i yearn for is home while being anywhere but. i cry a lot. it takes me until the last day of the year to finally recognize how good i have it.
i often think of this dewy patch of grass beneath the palm tree-lined sky. and i often think about how lying down on it feels the same as being somewhere you belong.
