Moments with Juan Pablo Tavera

It seems if you sift moments, give them space to knock against your heart a few times, you find much beneath. Things you had shied from, things you needed to know, things you didn't. These photographs of Juan Pablo's feel this way—layered,  fragile, moments splayed open.  

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I do not know the truth, or I do not know how to tell the truth. All I have are stories, night thoughts, the sudden convictions that uncertainty spawns. All I have are ravings, more like. She loved him! I say. She must have loved him! I wait for the kind of sense that dawn makes, when you have not slept. I stay downstairs while the family breathes above me and I am able to write it down, I lay them out in nice sentences, all my clean, white bones.
— The Gathering, Anne Enright