There are places in Trinidad and Jamaica where I feel parts of
myself shatter. A greater injustice exists in pretending that
suffering does not. I want to acknowledge all that makes these
places live, especially that which takes life from it.
So many of these voices are silenced, snatched and disregarded.
When I raise my camera before the children I see their loss of
innocence. They are becoming like stone; there is less bursting of
joy flowing through them. Portraits of men watch me wordlessly.
Their bullet wounds tell their stories instead.
I refuse to deny the shadows amidst the Caribbean’s bliss. These
people are fortresses. But they are hurting.
Some are just a corner away from better classrooms, warmer
meals...
A conversation.
Humanity.
I take these photographs because now you see them. Now, they
speak.
