Addax; Nothing Here Like You / March 6, 2019 by Rebecca Tillett

Lonely in trees, ignoring the sky because you’re angry, because you’re hurt
Asking for home, crying for family, searching for left behind souls in the dirt

Saguaro and Buckhorn Cholla / April 23, 2018 by Rebecca Tillett

When I became lost in the separation of child and mother,
Of myself and the other
When I became lost you became found
You climbed on to the backs of birds and
sailed between land and space for miles
Your back covered in feathers as black as the sky on a moonless night
each freckle an understudy for the veiled stars

Balloon Girl (there is always hope) / January 30, 2018 by Rebecca Tillett

I met Melissa, this red-lipped, beautifully inked, raven-haired woman less than 6 months ago. One day, nearly two months ago she confessed her love to me for Banksy’s balloon girl. She said she was dying to recreate it in a photograph for someone special to her, but wanted a snowy-filled backdrop. She wanted that vibrant red heart balloon to pop off a clean white setting.

I loved the idea.

You Wanted Her / August 3, 2017 by Rebecca Tillett

You hadn’t looked at me in days. You hadn’t really seen me in years. You saw only the heavy black clouds enclosing me. You didn’t understand me. You didn’t want to. You wanted something easier. You wanted to believe you deserved better. You wanted someone smiling back at you from future days. You wanted to stop cranking your neck backward in hopelessness and exhaustion.

Our Bodies Are Stars / July 2, 2017 by Rebecca Tillett

Even on the sides of the steepest slopes and the tallest mountains, even on quests for air and warmth, and even with the sun so close our skin tingles and simmers, our bodies will expand and stretch and pine and settle, comfortably into the trees, comfortably into the grasses, comfortably.

Entre Cielo y Tierra / June 24, 2017 by Rebecca Tillett

Did you drink the whiskey? Did you call a truce with time? She won't stop searching because she loves you, because she can't imagine her soul disentangled from yours, space forever multiplying between you. Will there be music? There must be music. Could the universe be so cruel?

More Like Deer Than Human Being / March 3, 2017 by Rebecca Tillett

Dear Samantha—
Thank you for your passion, your grace, your confidence, your boldness, your femininity, your sense of humor, your courage and fearlessness, your dedication, and the blinding beauty radiating from you. I edited one photo for every pound you lost (and have posted my favorites here)! I hope you feel as beautiful as you look in these photos.

Her Graces / December 14, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

I think every woman has a dear friend who can't appreciate her own beauty. In fact, I think nearly every woman is a woman who can't appreciate her own beauty. How many women do you personally know like that? Even more important, how long have you been looking in the mirror and cursing what you see?

The Lover's Gift / July 8, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

When I was still a teenager, I bought a beautiful book showcasing some of the most gorgeous nude and erotic photographs of the time. It was phenomenal, and it only fueled my passion for photo documentation of the female body. Anyway, on the first page there was a a graceful but delicate quote about how all photographs are essentially about love. And I loved that quote. It alludes me now and a quick google search yields no results, but I know I still own the book. Someday soon I'll find it.