One of your boyfriend’s mousetraps fires in the middle of the night. You know this sound without having to think about it, because it is one of those sounds that can be nothing else. After feeling a little sad about the mouse, you go back to sleep. You dream about ghost-mice, and if they attract ghost-cats. Right when you wake up, you go looking for which mousetrap it was, and when you find it, you look down at your right hand to realize you have the camera in your phone already fired up.

Like you were ever going to upload that to Flickr.

What is going on here? What am I documenting? Is it life, mine or a mouse’s? Or is it something else?

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.