THE STORY BEHIND THE SHOT

Shoulders, Elbows, Knees. 2020

February morning. 

Fresh snow has fallen through the night, and the hands of brighter mid-winter light reach in through the blinds and caress us into wakefulness.

I lie in bed and listen to the velvet-like silence: the rest of the house has yet to stir, and outside, the street is empty and motionless save for a handful of flakes still cascading from the sky, light grey stains on a whitened world.

There is a joyful sense of hope circling in the room, like dancing fairies, skipping and whirling to a secret, inaudible music.

Beside me, Salud is lying with her eyes open; she can sense it too.

The beauty of such moments seems to depend on their very fleetingness, yet still I try to fix it in my mind, turn it into a lasting impression that I might call on at times of need.

Salud gets out of bed and strolls over to the window, staring from our heated haven out to the frost on the other side of the glass.

Then she sits down in a chair, crosses her arms and legs as though protecting herself from a cold she can only see but not yet feel, and turns to face me. I have never known her look more beautiful.

‘Qué día mas precioso,’ she says.

The light from the window dresses her skin with a magical cloth of light and shade.

I smile, gently get out of bed, and reach for the camera that is just within reach on the bedside table.

She doesn’t move: she has sensed and created the photograph herself.

I take three shots.

Then kiss her, as though for the first time.