Each year, in the days surrounding my birthday, I turn the camera on myself.

What began as a way of showcasing my creativity when I couldn't find a model has become a ritual of sorts, marking time.

Returning to myself, the same subject year after year, I find myself celebrating the distance between where I've been and where I am: the changes etched into my skin, the of smile lines, the occasional grey hairs, the slow accumulation of a life lived.