She walks into the gallery as gently as her feet allow. She is nervous but fueled by an electricity
that seems to take the weight off the palms of her feet. She glides into the studio more confident
than she ever thought she could be in this setting. There is a gentle drizzle coating the windows
cheering her on; reminding her to breath and entrancing her into a memory of the first time he
grazed the back of her neck or the first time he mentioned her faded birthmark at the top of her thigh.
She uses these small and intimate memories as her muse. Her hair once down, is now swooped
up, and her eyes are glaring back at the camera like the sun has just hit them in the most piercing
light. The confidence in her simplicity and her certainty of her love for him radiates through the
lens onto a small glass screen that can barely contain all of her effortless elegance.
As she walks from the firm white couch to the sun streak streaming from one of the windows,
the room is silent. She is so comfortable in her own skin at this point, that fillers and small talk,
aren’t at all necessary. My team and I keep working but are in a trance by how easily she has
taken control of this at times complicated shoot. By the end of the shoot I hug my new dear
friend and I wonder if she can hear me silently asking her if she knows how exquisite she is?
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