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I do not enjoy being photographed. I never know what to do - with my face, with my body, with my hands.
But there is one picture of me in which I am looking straight at the photographer (I cannot remember who it was, but this was in Trinidad perhaps ten years ago (fact check: very perhaps) and we are at a club and it is clearly late and my left hand is wrapped around a glass of what can only be a scotch and coconut water, because I am nothing if not the person who will be drinking a scotch and coconut water if it is late in Trinidad and I am liming, and that is all to say there’s a narrowish pool of folks who could be on the other end of that lens).