He liked taking photos.

He took photos of his friends.

He took photos of his favourite outfits.

He took photos of all his favourite objects.

I always wondered why he never took photos of me.

It took a while but now I’ve figured it out.

He took photos of all the things he loved.

The things he was afraid of losing.

And his camera roll was jam-packed full of photos.

But not a single photo of me?