Becky Brown is a 16-year-old photography student from Greater London. Even though she started doing photography in September 2016, it was in January 2018 when she started portraiture. In this photographic story followed by textual pieces, the photographer expresses the passionate feelings of young love surviving war. The tender visuals of flowers, books and letters contrast with the nostalgia and pain caused by physical distance, portraying the soft side of love often unseen in times of war and destruction.
Brown, through photographs and written pieces, immerses us in a short story exposing the hardships of war yet treasuring the gentleness of love during such times.
You can find her photography on Instagram: @becky_photography_xx
World War 1 by Becky Brown:
I am the moon, you are my sun. You bring me light when all I see is darkness.
She’d never felt love so strong.
That nestled in her chest
Until she met the one who showed her
She deserved the best
He’d hold her firmly in his arms
And run his fingers through her hair
He never failed to make her see
That he would always care - h.d
No mountain, nor sea, no thing of this world could keep us apart, because this is not my world. You are.
Reading is the only thing that distracts me from the fact that I miss you so much.
I sat under our tree today, it made me feel closer to you.
When I close my eyes, I see you. When I open my eyes, I miss you.
Everywhere I go I see your face, then I look again and it’s not you.
Do you remember the flowers you got me the day we got engaged?
I haven’t heard from you in a while, I’m starting to worry.
The telegram boy came today. I remember the fear on everyone’s faces as we watched him stop at people’s houses and deliver the dreadful news. Usually I’d be one of the lucky ones who didn’t receive a telegram but unfortunately, today I did.
There are no words to explain the feeling I got when I read the telegram. It was a mixture of sadness, hope and relief. I felt like I could breathe again when I read that you were missing and not dead. I just hope you are safe now, my love.
Dear Henry,
It’s been about a week now since I received the telegram saying that you were missing. I haven’t stopped worrying about you. I don’t think I can.
I sat under our tree today and read the book you gave me when we first met. In my basket I carried the sandwiches I would make you every day for lunch. I do hope you are safe Henry.
I love you with all my heart.
From your ever loving, Rose.
I dreamt of you last night, you came to say goodbye.
A poem by Christ Anne Martin Sleeping soldiers: Greyness covers The rows of boys As they lie together In silent rows. A string of skeletons, their names etched, in the book of sorrow, the book of death. Violence their last memory, as they sleep in deadly peace. Ship the next batch of boys overseas, and clear a space where their graves will be, in the ancient yard of misery. The end
Photographer: @becky_photography_xx
Introduction written by: @kalikatari for @heartbrokenzine
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