I remember that I told my first boyfriend that photography came first, always, no matter what. He would never have the first place. Hah. I really wasn't in love with him. At all. But it's sort of amazing how devoted I was to it a couple of years ago. Now I feel like I'm getting worse by every day, blaming it on the fact that I have no models to work with... and that I'm getting just a taaaad bored with self-oh-not-again-portraits. On the other hand, it seems like I'm ending up at a design school anyway, so maybe I should take a break.
I might also not end up anywhere. Then I'll have to work at a spa, cleansing old womens backs.