In my very late teens (might as well call it my twenties, and while I’m at it I’ll pretend that it hasn’t been over 10 years since then!), a good friend asked why I took so many photographs. There were so many reasons that came flooding to my mind, so I told him that I’d think on it and get back to him. I’m not sure I ever fully expressed the answer to his face, but I think after a while he probably understood. Years later, in 2014, I took on the task of gathering photos and memories to display at his funeral. I think that was when I fully, 100% understood why I took so many photos myself: fear of forgetting.

I never want to forget the feelings of some of the simplest moments – that gorgeous sunrise above the hidden “hipster beach” on Belle Isle after wading into the freezing water fully clothed, the Ferris wheel at the carnival on a perfectly blustery spring day, or the young chipped-tooth smile of the first day of meeting a friend who wasn’t with you long enough, but will leave an imprint for a lifetime.

I never want to forget, and so I am a photographer.

Chris Wells, circa 2004, very early in the morning after a late night of hanging out at the Livonia, Michigan Steak and Shake. It was the first time we met, and I had a photo left on my disposable camera that I didn't want to waste before dropping it off to be developed. Chris told me he didn't like people "stealing his soul" - but that he would let me just this once. Rest in Power, Chris. 35mm 2004.

Something is always hidden. The perfect sunset over Hipster Beach on Belle Isle, Michigan. The icing on a much needed relaxing weekend with friends visiting from out of town. DSLR 2016.

Like brightly colored toys pulled out of the green and blue Playskool toy box, the Ferris Wheel has been the skyline of childhood dreams. Memories of too much cotton candy, elephant ears, and "fresh squeezed" lemonade to last a lifetime. DSLR 2016.

When nature resounds so much with your soul that you can't help but think it was put there just for you. DSLR 2016.

Sometimes the electricity jumps out of your skin and into the air, setting the night on fire with trails of the music of a time long past softly tinkering through your ears. DSLR 2007.

The beginning of a new year soon to come, leaving behind a horrible year and hoping for fresh memories to abound. Polaroid 2006.

Broken teeth haunting dreams; setting them all aflame to make sure they can never recur. A cold winter night, with warm faces. DSLR 2007.

A silhouette of a man, traveling through the nation in a van. An experience in being so close, but so far away. DSLR 2007.

The equipment doesn't make the artist. And sometimes I swear He painted it just for us. iPhone 6 2015.

Freedom sticking so close to the cage. DSLR 2016.

And sometimes, the photographs that elicit the most memories are the ones taken with someone else behind the lens. DSLR 2016.

All photographs copyright Rosie Wholihan, 2016.