The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth is that I suffer from performance anxiety. As a matter of fact, I work at home, I rarely set foot in direct sunlight and most of the time I’m sociable like a brown bear. I’ll soon be unable to produce human sounds due to glottis atrophy. So when I must do the most secret and intimate thing I can think of – the most embarrassing thing after masturbation – i.e. to arrange a photo set in the basement or in the attic, or in whatever room nobody will happen along accidentally, and to take pictures… well, if this includes other people’s presence I feel just as natural and at ease as somebody sitting naked at their finals.
So, each time I take pics of other people I have all those pre-exam funks (including without limitations colitis, itches, nausea, manual abilities reduced to a minimum). But with Rob it was different. It was a cold and rainy day, so our plans to get out and get lost in the woods blew up in my face. But she came here and did it all by herself. I fall platonically in love with all my models so my opinion doesn’t count. Let me show you: