Some believe that photographs can capture souls, that the amalgamation of glass and polycarbonate and metal can wrap around the spirit, drag it from the body and imprison it with the press of a button – the tap of a finger.
I don’t wish to trap you, but to coax you. Gently move you, persuade your inner makings to move at the speed of mine. To make you smile as the flash of light and the sound of the shutter embeds a piece of you behind a screen.
I’m a collector; a collector of you.
At any moment you might become another sacrifice, a victim of mortality. Your bones laid beneath the ground, your flesh given to the Earth … and your soul removed from this life. Then what would I have?
Then what would I have?
Is it so wrong for me to want you with me?
To keep you always?