Dani Brubaker Photographer + Director

Okay I am one step closer to the gig I told you guys about. Everything is tingling inside. When I get like this I tend to reflect and dig through archives of stuff. Maybe it's a way of trying to remain humble when all you want to do is scream out loud. I stumbled across a folder titled "writings" inside the folder are letters from dear friends that I've kept for many years. 

Here are a few of the writings.

"Let us risk remembering that we never stop silently loving those we once loved out loud"

"I always felt like I was given the wrong part in the wrong play. It was a script written for someone else"

"My disconnectedness formed a distinct aura around me that people notice, but cannot recognize"

"I might have been lucky enough to be saved by being adopted - but I still experienced falling"

"In her presence I didn't like her. In her absence, I longed for her"

"How do you find out about your past when it's so tightly woven with someone else's anger, misery and frustration?"

"When I would move towards Frankie I was also moving towards the original trauma. The unexpressed grief and anger lie in ambush"

My adopted mother would read this poem to me while I was growing up:

Anxious the bird lost from the flock

The sun sets and still it flies alone

Back and forth with no place to rest

As night wears on, its cry grows sadder

Maybe all of this is why I love photographing children so much