If there’s one term with which I’ve become wholly disenchanted over the last several months, it’s “moments.” I don’t care about moments as much as I care about character. I care about people. I care about the way they persistently choose to live their lives and treat others, and the way they develop themselves with purpose, with every step.
“Moments” are a copout. For me, right now.
I just moved out of San Francisco, and surrendered to memory the first life I’ve ever created for myself, by myself. And in “memory” are these “moments”–just a few of the faces I was able to document, a few of the people I could appropriately photograph to help me remember the web of connection around my neighborhood, my friends, my family, my job, my other job, and my other job. There are some pretty important faces that do not make an appearance here, but the faces here are pretty important.
Marco says he hopes I am valorada–valued–by the people I meet as I move into a new life. Well, San Francisco will always be valorada by me.