There are so many ways to love. There are gentle ways. Loud ways. There are ways that look nothing like how you expect it to, and ways that are downright cliched.
No single way is right, I suppose, though there may be a few ways that are wrong.
For years after reading The Bluest Eye, I was haunted my Morrison's words: “Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly..." I hoped to be kind, so my love could be so too, and so that I could be loved with kindness in return.
When you take pictures of people in love, you get a glimpse of their way. Some are goofy. Some are sultry. Some are thoughtful.
These two, their's felt fresh.
All winter we had hoped to schedule a shot in the snow. A fresh, clean white snowfall would have been the perfect backdrop.
Though the hopeful spring day we eventually had to settle for after snowless winter felt right too. The trees with just the faintest whisper of green. Warmth in the air that hinted at the seasons around the happy seasons around corner. It was poetic in the end.