Barthes liked beginnings. I like endings. What does it say that I feel most comfortable closing a door? Ending a sentence? Blotting out the sun with my fist? Perhaps the photograph is something I love because it is the last moment of a moment. The softest part of you was your earlobe (this I remember) and if I were to zoom in on it, I’d be able to represent vulnerability as skin. But if I chose not to do this, not to frame it for a spectator to see, would it remain (in perpetuity) mine? The way to begin is to be full of questions. The way to end is to answer them. You are no longer here and so the only way to know this is to imagine doing it; to bring the lens close to your neck. Is this framing preservation or is it giving it away? I want to have it. “What if knowledge itself were delicious?” asked Barthes, but I say What if nothingness?
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