As a young photographer, I would rarely photograph women. Even then, my main theme was everything related to gender. I would photograph friends or partners.
I was madly in love with Maureen. Differences drove us apart. Skin color or culture had nothing to do with that. While I was reading books by authors like Miller, Céline and Flaubert, she was only interested in Vampire comics. Anything that involved cruelty, actually. I would have understood that now, but it estranged me then. Occasionally, she woke me up by touching my skin with a burning cigarette.
I was heartbroken when she left.
A friend met her later on. She had two or three children and her mother was with her, and she told him that I would have been a better partner for her. I sincerely doubt that. I have very rarely been the better choice for women.
