Tragic Magic
- Reads 48
- Votes 4
- Parts 4
To me, the most magical thing about photography is when I take a picture of an event and I stare at it a few years later, it will bring the memories of it back to my brain and it will still tell me the same thrilling story.
It is, until I meet a guy; when I look at him-today or tomorrow or any day in the future, I will still fall in love with him with the same thrilling feelings, despite of how many times I refuse to.
One day, the most magical thing I have always believed in becomes the most tragic thing I have ever seen.
My name is Louisa Clark, 26 years old. Occupation: war photographer. Currently settled in Upper East Side, New York City. Welcome to my life story.
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When I got home, I had this sense of urgency overtaking me. I needed to read those diary entries and I needed to read them fast. The faster I read them, the closer I could get to Eleanor and God, did I want to be close to her. I wanted to get inside her mind and see how she worked, how she felt, how she loved. I locked my door behind me and kicked off my shoes, sitting at my desk in the corner of my apartment, by a bright window. I grabbed a piece of paper and pen, ready to take notes on what I was about to read. I would need to study them after I was done. I opened my phone to my camera roll and I swiped up until I found the first picture that I took.
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