Ramon calls me “hermano” because of our shared faith. I’ve told him some of my personal burdens, and he always has an encouraging word. Our family has strong connections, so when I caught him with the sun on his face as he waited for his grandson by the school gate, I knew he was genuinely glad to see me.
I’ve asked Ramón if I could take a portrait of him and his wife, but he is busy helping with grandchildren, so I may have to settle for this.
Her earliest memories are of dust clouds blasting her Texas Panhandle home, and her mother wrapping the sugar bowl in a towel, only to find brown dust among the treasured crystals. She’s lived in four different countries, adapting to life in large South American cities and the primitive Amazon jungle, and all with a husband and five kids. After all that she found it difficult to settle down in small town Kansas. She is my earliest memory – my mother.
Between the Zagreb bus station and the main square I came up behind this sweet couple. She’s looking ahead and he’s looking down. He depends on her.
I know they’ve seen lots of change and turmoil in their lives. Have they always turned to each other for strength? Have their struggles brought them closer together? Do they share their deepest thoughts? On the other hand they might have a silent dependency, just trying to read each other’s minds.
I often wonder how the people in my photos live and act and think.