M and J were in love. However, J lived with another man. The other man wasn’t nice. A few weeks after I made this photograph (a one-off I found in a box, damaged) J asked me to take photographs of a different sort. I stepped outside the bar, and J rolled up her sleeves and pointed at the bruises.
“Can you take some pictures?”
“In case something happens to me, I want someone to know”
She rolled up her pants legs, and I took close-ups of the places where the bruising was bad. There was a bruise inside her mouth where he had slugged her, but I didn’t have the right equipment with me to photograph it. A sports car came roaring into the parking lot. J ran around the corner and I heard the squeal of tires. J left with the man who had beaten her.
When I saw J next, she didn’t ask about the photographs of the bruises, but she loved the pictures with M.
