I am thinking about portals, about ways in – about finding the crack, the peephole, the hidden doorway into something previously unexperienced, unknown. The longing for that. Also about seeing things through our own personal lenses and how that changes what is actually truly present before us. How our own stories glaze over our eyes, a veil to what is here – both a beautiful thing (because we are then able to uniquely express our view that only we have access to, and then share it with the world) and a dangerous thing. And also about framing – how framing something changes the story. For example, how the scene in photo #6 becomes the story of "Matt + Dad" and their time by the water. A bond between father and son that was so strong it was etched into this fence where lovers are usually immortalized. With grooves so deep they survived the last paint job, and maybe even the one before that. I am left wondering where Matt and Dad are now. And I am thinking about how light changes everything.