Promise Me You Know How to Cry for a Stranger centers around the objects and places that are shaped by the lives that run through them. The creases in the corners of sneakers that talk of how many miles they’ve seen. A patch of threadbare denim on the knee of a pair of jeans, loyal to the form of one body. A beaten down footpath winding through an unruly forest. 

I encounter these trivial residuals and I think about the lives I'm earning a glimpse of. I wonder about the kinds of love they have in their life. If they have people who beg them to visit, people who worry about them when their train is late. I don’t need to know someone for them to have touched my life; the only connection we need is the knowledge that we bear our grins to the same sky.