This February I celebrated my birthday in Puerto Rico. It had been five years since I had seen my family. I stayed with a close friend who made me feel at home. She lives near Calle Loiza, in Santurce, a working-class district, and I walked up and down that street every day, looking for new angles and things I may have overlooked. We went to Old San Juan, too, but stayed in Santurce most of the time. It’s a street photographer’s dream.
It was liberating to get away from the routine back home: going to the same places and yet not quite getting it right but tired of those places and going anyways.
I still think poetry surrounds us wherever we go, and if we’re poets, we’ll decipher it.
To capture it is another thing.