Segunda vuelta, second time around. Same year, same muse, a little more trust on both sides of the lens. The portraits that proved the first roll wasn’t a fluke.

If the first shoot was all wind and sky, this one was the opposite. We went inside, clean studio, soft mint-grey behind her, nothing to hide behind and nothing to blame the light on. Just her face, close, and whatever was actually there that day.

She pulled her hair back into a loose bun, raised both arms over her head, and held my eye without blinking. No squint this time, no question. Calm, steady, a little glossy at the lips, completely at ease. Same person as year zero, just already sure of the thing we were both still figuring out the first time.