Our lives are made up of a collection of moments. Some times I find myself wondering if I will look back and remember them all, or even any of the little moments that make her who she is. The way she tries with such determination to put her boots on herself, the way she dances, her sweet little voice. Which moments will be the ones that stick with me 20, 30, 40 years from now. What will my brain decide is ok to forget? Maybe that’s part of why I photograph her so obsessively. To remember. To keep her as she is now, for the day when my brain can no longer recall. Our fleeting memories, one of the blessings and curses of being human.