Blinding flash of a camera follows.
I smile thankfully, glad it’s over. Capturing me when I am ready for a photo is okay. I’ll have the right smile ready to grace the camera. What I worry about are candid shots that people might take while I am not looking. It’s always easier to unmask a picture when the subject is not conscious. I’d love to be clicked but warn me please, thank you very much. I’d rather sit around being the photographer because then it lets me dissect people’s personalities and expressions, lets me wonder what they are thinking and inspires me to write pieces or maybe stories. Just one face can have so many stories to go with it. It’s a pleasure to spend long hours carefully analysing an expression and putting together a story to go with it. It is quite another thing to be the subject, however. I am not the best subject to write about and I’d rather not be written about. It seems inevitable that I’ll end up written about as one of two extremes – either as an antisocial girl who has a short temper and an unruly, swearing tongue or as a bubbly, friendly, ‘love-guru’ tomboy – the way I am depicted is subject to who is writing about me. Either way, I think I would be a trifle afraid to know what people think I am like because that would be the judgement of how good an actress I am… That is something I’d rather not know. I’d rather hide and hope it’s working because it seems to have.