⌘ When I Photograph a Woman

That moment when I photograph a woman, a woman I hardly know, and she begins to bend to me, like a tulip stretching for a spot in sunlight, she lets stiffness and fear fall to the floor, (a silk dress) her muscles relax under my gaze, it takes time, it takes both of us being a little scared, but there is always the sudden turn where her cheek becomes more of a song, where her shoulders and confused hands become a stillness, rest, where her eyes become a soft glimmer invitation, and she lets me in, a door opens to this hallowed shrine and she lets me find her vulnerable story, lens flaring at her light, a wildflower bursting from hillside, a quiet moon, a moving ocean, a red flame, the wall of who she thinks she has to be, crumbles into petals and becomes a narrow path toward her, a path I walk, lens glass focusing on the destination that is her, our hearts speaking to each other and listening at the same time.

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