I started taking photos again. As me. As ALAN. Thoughtlessly. Not with my camera, with my crappy phone, because I stopped carrying my camera around with me, because I fell out of love with photography – or really, it fell out of love with me, and it hurt too much to have that weight hanging round my neck.
There’s a story behind everything.
Every photograph, word, painting, conversation, sound, image, everything every thing.
It got to this point, somehow. Isn’t that completely mindblowing?
I won’t tell you the story behind this, obviously to some it seems a boring image, rain on some kind of window looking out into some where non descript, but to me, to ALAN, it has meaning. Wierd, right?
This picture would probably go on ALAN’s world. Because it can. And it proves ALAN exists, doesn’t it?
This kinda also marks the beginnings of my life, I, Leonie, my natural life, being no longer my own. Someone else is with me now, ALAN is taking over. Who am I now?
How to be alone. I’m alone.
Sometimes I think I’m a stranger in my own life