Monday, April 22, 2013

odd





Right there, maybe at that moment, I heard, Sheeah. I smiled when I realized she had only seen my name, never hearing someone say it or being forced to speak it. That reminded me of the longstanding joke of my Mom became a second grade teacher and taught phonetics only after she named me. The joke helped me relax because it reminded me not to take myself too seriously. There is something quite beautiful about someone not knowing your name. It's almost as if they have no expectations.

Right here, maybe at this moment, I understand having expectations of ourselves can be a full time job.



They will build and build and build until I don't know, I don't want it to end.





The editor of Desoto knew me. She knew this story of community, of Betty's photography, of art and expression would thrill me until it scared me on how could I ever tell you this much in only six hundred words.






Plus, when you meet Betty you meet others and those others are like Betty because Betty Press doesn't only photograph communities in Africa she also lives them here in Hattiesburg, MS.



Today I am grateful for ideas presented to us as simply as black and white when the drama comes as we whisper, Of course, I knew that all along. Thank you for the reminder. It's just. I felt odd until now.








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