Proof that I was there. Proof that the afternoon light really did turn that wall to gold. Proof that I loved something fragile enough to break if I didn’t look at it hard enough.
But the camera lies a little, doesn’t it? It cuts out the cold. It can’t record the smell of old books or the way my chest felt hollow after you left. It only gets the surface. The beautiful, cruel surface. Sharlotta s video collection 03
When I remember, the edges are soft. The light is whatever I needed it to be. But when I record… I have to accept what’s actually there. The crooked frame. The silence between words. The way my hand shakes slightly before I press stop. Proof that I was there
This is a beautiful title for a project. "Sharlotta’s Video Collection 03" suggests a series—an archive of curated moments, perhaps intimate, observational, or cinematic. But the camera lies a little, doesn’t it
For the moments that don’t need a plot. Only a witness.