The slowest and the fastest year

Sophie shooting in Waimanalo at dawn.

I’ve always played with my hair, twirling the curls between my fingers until they were smooth, absentmindedly while driving, reading, or here, sitting on the sofa. Only now many strands come off in my hand and I build a pile beside meĀ until I get up. I bury them in the trash so no one has… Continue reading The slowest and the fastest year