I’m kind of obsessed with time and the ways we describe it. Milestones, haircuts, seasons, relationships, calendars, sunrises. The way time and memory overlap or intersect. A photograph as a single moment in time, or as a vessel for memory.
This weekend marks three years since I moved to Pittsburgh. I checked the math four times because it feels like that can’t be true. In these photos, I hope to show three years in single moments. Progress in stills: plant’s grow (sometimes die), Fala’s first toy chewed up into pieces. I ask: when does something new become something old? I ask: when does where you live become inseparable from who you are?
I ask: when people ask me where I’m from, when will my answer be where I live?
My friend texts me:
so ya, go Steelers