my second stranger was from toronto.

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distillery district. kind eyes, gentle voice, beautiful hands. we spoke about instability and there was snow outside on the pavement.

my first stranger.

 (i had to sit on my hands to keep them from trying to hold his.)

warsan and the stranger.

- in order to postpone my inevitable fall into hikikomori, i decided i would meet people i did not know. where did this idea come from? well, somewhere along the way i had developed a habit of forming very intense and beautiful friendships with people who i had met on travels. this meant that i found myself in a constant state of longing for friends who were literally all over the world. also, i had turned twenty three with the complete inability to engage in ‘small talk’. so what would any self respecting person do when they realise that they know no one in the city that they’ve lived in their whole lives? why, meet complete strangers for coffee and photograph their hands of course. this project is literally chronicling loneliness, the ways in which strangers can meet and create intimacy with very little. also, hands have always been intriguing to me, often revealing more than the persons face. studying the fine line between anonymity and vulnerability. here’s to people we don’t know. and then knowing them.