I saw a personal favorite photo of my Beloved, of our first vacation together and it was her April birthday up at the Ferguson Cabin in Clayton County Georgia. That little detail (her birthday that weekend) was a major fact left out. I snapped picture after picture of her (as I did throughout our walk together) including the one where she lay on her back against the lake dock and it is a good photo.

I saw that photo today of Her used in social media where it has always been used previously, except that this time it bothered me because it wasn’t framed correctly. Her big wide eyes, curiously childlike and hued light blue, look out from behind frames that caught my eye first.

The white bandana has French wording on it. Liberte. The photo makes Beloved look like another person, lighter, smaller, narrower, younger. It is a startling remake of the Original that I fell in love with so.

Today photos are all that I have. It’s a death. It’s a giant hole. It’s a major loss for me. It’s time to be quiet and discern my next steps. The facts remain that I am left here holding the bag. I’d dialogued with confidante’s about whether to return to Atlanta from Baltimore where I’d sojourned and worked hard on a favored contract in Washington, DC, given Beloved’s propensity to leave me every 4-6 months.

She managed to embed herself thoroughly into my world and I welcomed her to a big slice of me, my family, my work, my colleagues, my time, my resources, my heart.

My heart.

I have over 12,500 photographs of Beloved taken over the course of 3.75 years, since the Ferguson Cabin vacation with her.

The question of what to do with all of my photos comes into deep question.

To destroy. To delete Beloved quickly, just as she deleted me.

So, what have I learned through all of this you will not hear, here.

My bottom line is this: do not use my photographs in any way shape, or form, without my consent or purchase.

They are my own. Mine. My heart’s. These belong to me.

I’ve a show at the Atlanta Quaker Meetinghouse in Decatur in a short while and it’s dizzying to me which ones I’ll select to exhibit, largely, framed and for sale this time, on October 6, 2017 running through to the end of October.

Everything’s got a price and so does a bad hand played worse, except for surviving razor thin cuts on my heart and on my soul forevermore by one who is so beautiful and broken.



Published by jen padron

Mover and a shaker. Comrade. Community Bridger. Creative. Filmica. Sentimentalist. Imminent. Emergent Social Action. Change Agent. Voted for Hillary (2008, 2016).

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