my lover the photographer

She said she liked Instagram. That it didn't affect her profession. That all the social media beauty was a relief from what she had spent so many years remotely chasing. The messy and the muck, the clashing of ugly spheres and cells to make a bloody born baby of a moment. Like that Egyptian trash pile where people lived and flies fed. Like a jagged and misunderstood light. A Gypsy's eyes. A Haitian morgue. She wanted what she saw with her own eyes and heart to challenge the limits of her lens, she wanted what she photographed to break her camera.