Tiny little bubbles, gems with pockets of air, cling to my arms, my legs, the area in between my breasts. I like to submerge quickly and hope that this crappy disposable camera will capture the magic of being underwater. It doesn’t quite get it, but that’s okay. Holding these photos is proof that this day once existed, that I was once under this specific water. They are a place for the bubbles to not pop. Laying on your back, ears under the water line, in a pool with your best friend is beautiful for the sheer delight of quietly contemplating and knowing that there is another body within arms reach (a brush of the toe, perhaps) who is also quietly contemplating.
The first three photos were taken by Crrr, and are much lovelier than the bottom three, which I took without regards to composition (apparently). The colors are weird, I know, and they are very grainy. They are for memories sake. I also realize there is a weird little line across the top of all of them, and I know I should rescan them, but I won’t. This is how they are and how they will stay.