My name is Savannah Jaye.
I'm a photo student at Savannah College of Art and Design.
I have a passion for people and their stories.
I'm a writer, photographer, and wanderer, but I'm not sure in which order.
I'm living my dream and interning for TWLOHA this spring.
What you read on this blog are my thoughts and my words, and are in no way endorsed or sponsored by TWLOHA.
I'm not there yet, but I'm past the start.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
rinse and repeat.
3 years. 3 months. 3 weeks. 3 days. 3 hours. 3 minutes. 3 seconds. 3 words.
Sometimes I think I can’t remember anything and other times I seem to be incapable of forgetting anything. Memory is a fickle being: haunting us with what we want to lose and taunting us with what we need to recall.
I can remember the day I was late for my first summer class (I always seem to be late for the beginning). I can remember what you were wearing when you walked away from me. I can remember what you wearing every time you walked back. I can remember crying in the towel aisle of Wal-Mart. I can remember every conversation about coming and going. I remember begging you to stay. I remember asking you to leave. I remember winning you back with a wistful smile. I remember giving you the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever given anyone and I remember it not meaning a thing to me. I remember Finding Nemo. I remember drunk text messages. I remember sitting in the poetry aisle of Barnes and Noble. I remember sitting out by the pool and talking about constellations. I remember all of our unexpected conversations and I remember how I felt after each of them. I remember sending postcards. I remember drum sticks and wrestling belts. I remember Dead Poets Society. I remember car rides. I remember plays and organ recitals. I remember you making me watch UP in 3D. I remember the absence of drunk text messages. I remember walks at twilight with more fireflies than I had ever seen before in my life. I remember every band you introduced me to. I remember the night my parents asked me how old you were. I remember the longest week before you held my hand. I remember watching Planet Earth. I remember the longest text message I’ve ever sent. I remember happy and I remember sad.
They say those that don’t remember history are doomed to repeat it. Well, I can remember the first conversation we had and the last conversation we had, but no matter what I do I can’t seem to figure out what about our history I’m forgetting. So I’m still stuck on repeat: I was late for class that day, I was late for a bonfire, and I was late for church. I’m so sick of being late.
