I have spent my time in this sun soaked state, glistened by my sweat and overtaken by my thoughts, and bound to my lens. Not the usual lens that everyone thinks of with two rims that hook onto your ears and make you see the world a little more clear, but the one that hangs right in front of your eye and captures snip-bits of each little moment that you are on Earth. That’s right, a camera lens. It has been 19 days in which I have been on this trip and yet all I have to show for it is a few hundred photos that fill my camera roll, marking days in my lifeline. A photo is just a single representation of what I have witnessed, what I have embraced, and what I have embarked on. Every single photo has a story, it has a history.

This image depicts a gorgeous waterway, lined thoroughly with cypress trees, glistening under the warm sun. What you wouldn’t know is that this water is a swamp and it is filled with hundreds if not thousands of alligators. Each day, large pontoon boats filled with visitors come and grace these waters. The guides stuff the alligators full of marshmallows just so these visitors can get their “perfect picture.” These swamps are lined with history, in little pockets of this straightway are rice plants which were farmed in the 19th century in order to make a profit.

This image depicts Ciena gently climbing an antique staircase that is so graceful and unique. What you wouldn’t know is that these staircases lead to the second floor of an old Pharmacy Museum in the French Quarter. At the top of these stairs were sharp tools and medical instruments that made the difference between life and death in the 19th century. You also wouldn’t have known that Ciena and the rest of the group were just caught in one of New Orleans’ torrential downpours that soaked everyone’s clothing down to the last thread.

This image depicts a group of people standing around an old cabin and exploring its surroundings. What you wouldn’t know is that this cabin is on a plantation. This plantation, called the Whitney Plantation, was home to hundreds of slaves during the early 19th century. In this very cabin over twenty slaves were housed with no running water, no access to food, and no way of escaping the Louisiana heat.

This image depicts several colorful books lining perfectly built bookshelves. What you wouldn’t know is that these books belong to a shop that has been in New Orleans for several decades. One of the most amazing aspects of this bookstore is not actually the books but the people who run it. They are filled with zest and an undying love of learning that just oozes onto their customers. And you wouldn’t even know that once upon a time, William Faulkner called this very place home.

This image depicts a young girl standing on a balcony, smiling. Well, what you wouldn’t know is that girl is me. What you wouldn’t know is that this was the night I stayed in from going out because this entire trip I have been battling severe allergies. This little “self love” photoshoot was in hopes to make myself feel better for being trapped in my room all night. It was a way for me to get some fresh air and feel like I was actually enjoying the city and the short time I have here.

While I have spent a good portion of this trip with my face behind the camera, I have realized after looking at the hundreds of photos I have taken, they do not nearly explain what I have experienced. I could have had thousands, if not millions of photos and yet they would not explain the whole story. A photo does not tell us how someone is feeling, what may have happened before the photo or even after. A photo is truly just one small spec in this never ending universe.

It makes me wonder how many times I have been shown a photo and believed I knew the whole story. How many times I have seen a photo about an event or in the news, and felt as if I knew exactly what was happening. How many reporters, photographers, or community members thought they knew what was happening.

I have realized that most of the time, I will never know the whole story. I will have to rely on others, trust others to help me find my own conclusion. But most of all, I will never assume I have the whole story. I will always respond with an intent to learn and an intent to listen. I know I may never know the whole story, and I am okay with that.