On a recent Saturday in November, I walked up to a newsstand at Times Square, purchased the local paper (haha), and was delighted to find a story I recently shot for them on the front page of their sports section! (I then proceeded to shoot said front page on the A train with my phone from all angles.)

When I was in Sambava to shoot the vanilla story, I started surfing and hanging out with the Surf of Clans gaong (boys), the local surf crew. Yoyo, Coco, Vario, Valérien, Paul, Lego, Nora and Olidano Colonel welcomed me with a particular mix of warmth, curiosity and heavy sarcasm that is unique to Malagasy people.

My favourite photograph I took this year—or maybe ever—is a picture that's only for me. I waited five months to shoot it, and then I promised the person in the photo not to show it to anyone, so it's just sitting on a hard drive. Every once in a while I look at it when I'm alone. I'm so glad I took it, and it reassures me, but every viewing reminds me of that time that's gone, and then my heart breaks a little. Photography can be so intimate, and so melancholy: Every time I press the shutter, it's an acknowledgement that the moment I've just photographed has passed.