Grief in isolation is brutal. It is really physical, which is an odd feeling to face when you haven’t had human contact for more than 70 days. For those with complex relationships to their body —and their mind, we need to navigate these uncertain times carefully. With compassion. With forgiveness. Sometimes you feel as though your body is like a ship driven by the torrent of fear, triggered by dystopian news. Sometimes you feel that your mind is playing a simulation game, waiting to move to the next screen. Then mourning offers you a few seconds of a shivering reality and it’s like you’ve seen the matrix of life. Most of my career has focused on visualising the pain of others. Sometimes I’ve even channelled my own pain through theirs. I believe in the power of images to carry the souls of those we remember and the act of photographing as the alchemy for transcending sorrow.
*This image is part of a diary series on bulimia recovering, part of the evolution of my On Eating Disorders project. One of my best friends suddenly passed away during the first lockdown in May 2020. To grief her alone, while in strict isolation and without a chance to say goodbye, was one of the most surreal moments of my life. She, as me, have struggled with an eating disorder since a teen.