So he sent me the photos and contact sheets, and in the interim I thought he was the guy who took pictures of me rollerskating. But no, no roller skating photos.
I bought that hat somewhere at some time and in some city and even though I no longer have it, I have a better one in black and white. I am quite the hat freak. Maybe I don't have to add the word "hat" to that sentence.
I was posing with my Yorkie who was an absolute terror and once went into a neighbor's apartment, grabbed their bird by the wing and was dragging him down the hallway amidst the screams of my friends.
In my dog's defense, who lets a bird walk around the fucking FLOOR and leaves their door open? I screamed at Kiko to drop it but he picked up steam and started trotting, like a horse, until I caught him by the neck. The bird was okay and when I got my dog home I discovered a blueish-green feather on his snout. I framed it with a picture of him. Every time I see it I laugh.
Kiko hated one of my boyfriends so much that we were up late playing LPs yo, and the next morning discovered one little poop on each album we'd left out. Some were in jagged piles and he climbed the piles just to make a higher-up poop.
The point of all this and YES I HAVE ONE is that in some moments of our lives, when we feel we look like shit? Turns out all we need is a good photographer. And a funny dog.
End of chat.