Control.
left, left, left, left, left, right, left, right, left, left, left, left, left, up, left, left, right.
Control.
A week before my semester abroad started in Paris, I flew into Bordeaux. I wanted a couple days to recover from the jetlag, some time to try and explore another city, and maybe a shot at getting tattooed by an artist that I’d followed for years. I quickly discovered the sense of loneliness that comes with traveling to a new country – especially with the language barrier. As an introvert, I found myself frequently wandering the streets and shooting with my headphones on.
Alone in a crowd.
Three days in, I reactivated my Tinder account and began swiping. During this process, I thought about all the times I had criticized Tinder as being a way for people to be objectified and easily disposed of. I changed my bio to specify that I just wanted someone to hang out with, and maybe take pictures of if they were interested. Then I pushed aside my tinge of guilt and continued to swipe. And swipe. And swipe.
The next day I awoke to a collection of matches.
“Alice, less than a mile away.”
Empathetic to my situation as someone who had lived in Japan for a year with no friends prior to arriving, we struck up a conversation, and eventually she invited me out to the bar with a group of her friends who offered to try their best to speak English for me. As the end of the night approached, I thanked my new friends for helping me, and we all parted ways.
A familiar stranger, I reached out to Alice again a month later and asked if she would be willing to allow me the opportunity to spend 24 hours with her as I relinquished all control, something I usually avoid at all costs. Surprisingly, and with no reluctance, she agreed, and we booked a 28 hour stay together.
These photos chronicle the 28 hours I spent with Alice, a surprisingly deep, interesting, and cultured woman whom, on principle, won’t turn down an opportunity that she thinks she’ll never have again.
