This weekend I walked around Ann Arbor with an umbrella in one hand and a tripod in the other, desperately trying to shield my camera from the torrent of rain. I had always wanted to capture long exposure shots and thought this was the perfect time to try it out.
I knew I was attracted to men before I knew I was Attracted To Men. It began at my summer camp, a small wooded refuge tucked away in northern Wisconsin. There, one or two hundred boys or so, from age 9 to 15, played, swam, canoed, sailed, crafted, cooked, gathered, laughed, cried.
Edward meets me at the bus stop on campus with our standard greeting: smiling and clapping his hands slowly, letting out a whooping, “O-K, O-K.” He looks like he always has, wide-eyed and enthusiastic but stifling a perceptible weariness, in a hoodie, skinny jeans and white Vans.
I could find eternity here, nestled somewhere between the pressed cotton sheets and your warm embrace My worries and fears miles away — there is an incomprehensible beauty to the fire that burns from within your crevices, which light you up from the inside