My love for story is profound. It doesn’t take much for me to become entrenched within the world of story and character, an active, wanton observer, so eager to become riveted.

      So often it’s the little gestures: the body language of passion, the facial expressions of sadness, the blankness of doom that parlay the gravity of the moment. The tiniest of body ticks, the raptured telling of the eyes, stillness, the sterilized needled focus of the moment in time, three dimensional still shots with a pulse, suppressed adrenaline that builds up inside us. Those are the moments where I’m most in tune with my emotions, my breathing, my sense of being, and where I become lost in story.