Bearing witness to indifference: A photojournalist’s thoughts on navigating trauma, truth, and hope
I remember the first time I held a camera. It was my father’s old Leica, a relic from his time in Germany where he was stationed before serving in Vietnam. I used to play with it, pretending to focus and take photos long before it was ever loaded with film. Photography has always been a part of my life, even though I did not take it seriously as a vocation for much of my early years. But just by being the one who always took snaps at family gatherings or on holiday trips, I learned to see the world...
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