I took this picture on Melrose in Hollywood. I saw them coming towards me, this couple walking on the street full of skate boarders and freshly waxed women. I didn't get my camera out until I was behind them. I didn't know how to go up to them and say can I take your picture. This could be 1974 or 2011. They are in their own time, bending it, curving it to fit their own reality.I wanted to ask the lady on the right when did this happen to you? When did your spine curl over? What made that happen, was it a gradual unfolding, did each vertabrae crack one by one or did you wake up one morning to find you could no longer look at the sun? What must it be like to only look down.
But don't we all do that. Don't we all shrink inside, curl over into our own little worlds and not look at what is happening around us. How often do we look at the sky and notice the clouds moving or the blues and greys shifting. I have to remind myself to. When I do I feel ok. I feel that everything on my mind is insignificant, even if for only a second I become more than myself- no- I become myself.
What does this lady long for? How does her spine look on the inside? If I were to take my camera right into her bones what would I see. Would I see her history dripping down her back? Would I hear her voice in her spine- echoing in each broken chamber. Is she listened to now or does she carry her words screaming on the inside. Is that what happened? Her body became so weighed down with the things unsaid that it began to concave, to collapse. Could by opening her mouth, and pulling them out allow her to stand tall again. Or is it far, far too late for that.