If I Could Talk I’d Tell You

By now I’ve grown used to looking at things the way you do. But for years, before I really knew you, I relished the gift of doing so by looking at the photos you took. That summer afternoon in 2019 I observed the way you made your way down a Houston sidewalk, camera in hand, searching for something only you could identify. You shot mostly buildings that day. And a shelf of books at the Photography Center. You asked to take my photo and I politely declined, something I still regret in a futile way. I kept up with you over the following months through photos you took and shared online. Concrete and expanses of water and distinctly ‘Daniel’ angles and corners and textures. I always loved it all.

I find myself wondering how I can ever tell you any of the things that I know I need to. It is a problem that seems like it could never arise here…you, a man of few words; me, a woman of very, very many! But it’s true that words elude us most when we need them desperately. Do you ever grab hold of a feeling so three-dimensional, so substantially rooted, yet fleeting and ever-evolving at the same time, that your language could never truly describe?