2000 · Film Photography · Zhuwei, Taoyuan, Taiwan
— by Scot Andersen
This photograph was taken by our friend Scot, and over the years it has quietly become one of the most precious images I own.
Not because it is technically perfect, or carefully composed, but because it holds a beginning — the kind you only recognize many years later.
In 1999, I was in a serious car accident.
My left femur was fractured, and for months my world slowed down to the pace of pain, hospital visits, and rehabilitation. Life became smaller. Every step required effort. Every movement reminded me that my body was fragile.
When Pat and I first met, I was still in recovery.
A cast.
Crutches.
An awkward, uneven rhythm to the way I walked.
It wasn’t exactly how you imagine meeting someone who might change your life.
I couldn’t walk far. I couldn’t move freely. I couldn’t pretend to be strong or independent. There was no performance left in me — only vulnerability.
And yet, maybe that was precisely why everything felt so honest.
In this photograph, you can see it clearly: I’m leaning on my crutches, and Pat is gently holding my arm.
Not dramatically.
Not heroically.
Just naturally.
As if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
That’s what I remember most about those days — not grand gestures, but small, quiet acts of care.
Walking at my speed.
Waiting without impatience.
Standing close enough so I wouldn’t lose balance.
Love didn’t arrive as fireworks.
It arrived as steadiness.
Scot happened to be there with his camera and pressed the shutter at the right moment. Back then, it was just a casual photo among many. None of us thought too much about it.
But film has a strange magic.
It freezes time in a way that feels heavier, more permanent. Years later, when I look at this black and white frame, it no longer feels casual. It feels like evidence.
Proof that something had already begun.
The absence of color makes it feel even more like memory. The light, the grain, the soft contrast — everything carries a sense of distance, as if I’m looking through time itself.
Sometimes I think about how fragile that moment actually was.
If the accident hadn’t happened, our paths might not have crossed in the same way.
If I hadn’t slowed down, maybe I wouldn’t have noticed him.
If Scot hadn’t raised his camera, this beginning might have slipped away unnoticed.
But here it is.
Two people walking forward together, slowly.
Even on uneven ground, even on stones that made every step harder.
Before the travels.
Before the photographs.
Before the life we built.
Just us, learning how to walk side by side.
Where it all began.
Photo series: Where It All Began
01 Friends in B&W
02 Apartment Light
03 Cats
04 First Trip to Thailand