Maybe it’s not where he is– but she is. In a notebook, she writes that she is trying to “drive” her life. “To be in the drivers seat, in control”. She used to ask him: Where should she go? How does she get there? Now, she feels angry when he gives advice. She feels angry when he is angry and she looks for somewhere, someone else. But she is unsure of where she is headed.

But then in bed with the lights on or the sunlight coming in, she is out of her thoughts and into her body– that sparkle in the center of her chest. And next to her, this man is vulnerable. They become soft together. She tries to understand– this is the same man who is playful or annoying. Who is angry or distant–this man, this man–they are all the same.

This man is someone whose heart she is entrusted with. She touches his hair, feather-soft, and she feels the weight of this promise. He is a being, with a heart, he has entrusted to her.

The way she thinks of it, is to hold one in each hand. The keys to her life in one, his heart in the other.

Photos by Eliot Lee Hazel

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