i was thirteen when my obsession for documenting beauty began. in the beginning it was my wild, six-year-old sister in our backyard, the hot summer sun freckling her skin. then it was strangers in the streets, my unassuming youth allowing me to photograph the most honest of moments.
very soon i was filled with angsty teenage passion. drunkenly stumbling suburban streets with a camera in hand and friends mostly chosen for how well they photographed. the camera was a part of myself and i slept with it beside my pillow every night for years.
i obsessively documented life so much that when i reminisce now it is more a collection of images, films and diary entries than true memories.