No one liked this.
When I was doing my 365 Days Self-Portrait Project, I was selling one a day every day, for the price of the day I took it on. This was Day 25. No one bought it. Photos around it were purchased, for more and less, but this one didn’t go.
Losing her hands, losing her tongue, raped, killed by her father, this character was reduced to an object to be used in a plot and used up in her death. Or maybe it was an uncomfortable sign. If we can be used as an object, perhaps we were never people to belong with.
As long as we are labeled primarily by our bodies, we are objects.