A late female photographer with great work didn't gain fame until a stack of negatives was discovered. Her whole life has been pieced together by photographs, objects, memories of others, events. Loneliness is a feeling from the beginning. When a person's life is washed so much, even if there are countless her selfies, her influence, her voice. The splendor of a person's life can never be repeated. Born in New York, French mother, babysitting since a young age, traveled a lot and photographed...Private space, love to collect small items, collect criminal clippings, vintage dress, always photographed, misogynistic period, eccentric , grow old, struggle to survive, die. If there are no close relatives, friends, and lovers, one's life will be frozen by these, and without the photos she has put in and tried, no one will discover and excavate, and one's life will dissipate like a cloud of smoke.
Does a person need to endure enough loneliness to achieve anything?
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