Revisiting my own photographs stimulates not only my sense of sight, but also the sense of smell, touch, and sound that accompanies these memories. I cannot forget the poignant smell of blood that hit my nostrils entering the city of Nabatiyeh, or the strength of the sun's rays on my skin as I inhaled the putrid smells of waste on Conakry's shoreline. And more importantly are the relationships I fostered with the subjects of these photographs, whether through direct interaction or even with their permission to let me enter their lives for a brief moment. My memories color each of these photos with layers of meaning that I can only hope to partially impart through a split-second capture.
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