“Now look up,” she said. “What is she doing?” I looked up in surrender as she clicked the picture.

Those pictures. It boggles my mind how my entire photo album is filled with just pictures of me at the most random times—eating, sleeping, or doing something funny. Generally, objectively weird pictures.

I never took a lot of pictures, ever. I told her how I had 400 photos on a 2-year-old phone when I came here to Naples. That number has grown 8 times now. I can’t fathom that it was possible for an electronic device that I own to have thousands of pictures. Definitely not normal.

But it’s us. Can’t go too far expecting the normal. At first, she tried to be sneaky and discreet when she took goofy pictures of me. I resisted a lot even before. Gradually, seeing how much joy it gives her—such a simple act, I allow her to do it. I stopped resisting. I let her take all the goofy pictures. It’s funny but borderline annoying to look at those pictures again.

As I spent more time with her, during all our spontaneous, untoppable moments, I had the urge to document more. I never had that.

I always wanted to document my life with my pen; I wanted to record my days in my notebooks and my nights in my soul.

She makes me want to document my life more. Us more. Us of—moreeeee.

As I sit down to eat cereal in my pink bowl, I wish she were here to say, “Look up,” and I would keep the bite down and surrender.

My headaches don’t allow me to write nowadays. But scrolling through my photo album, I got so annoyed that I wanted her to know—I’m waiting for you to annoy me more.