I went to photograph faces. I met souls.
What broke me most wasn't the feathers, nor the war paint, nor the spears.

It was crossing the barrier.

It was a warrior with boar tusks looking me in the eye and not seeing a camera.

It was a woman painted in white smiling at me as if she had known me before.

In that second, Papua stopped being "far away".

It became human. It became close. It became a mirror.

I didn't take photos. They were given to me.

And I came home with their gaze etched into mine.