Stop Here.

THIS IS A STORY ABOUT TWO FRIENDS — a photographer and a writer in Portland, Maine, who tried an experiment. At the start of every week for 52 weeks Winky sent Susan a photograph, and by the end of that week Susan sent a tiny story back — a moment in time that talked to the photograph. The photographs were of their children, and the street where they all lived (only one house separated their two families), and of other green places in Maine.

The mothers saw each other sometimes dozens of times a day — exchanging kids and dogs and emergency cups of coffee, but they never spoke about their experiment. There wasn’t time. Their lives often felt like they were spinning just ever so slightly out of control — like maybe motherhood was just one big race with no visible finish line.

But what happened while they weren’t looking was that their experiment began to slow time down. All the little marriages of words and image said, Stop Here. Because motherhood flies by. The days are long, but the weeks are short. We know we’re marking time with our kids, but how exactly? And how is it that the changes in those little bodies are so invisible, even when they’re happening before our very eyes?

Stop Here, This is the Place tells the story of a year in motherland. The camera watches the children’s arms and legs grow longer until any trace of baby in their faces is gone. The camera reports how long one year can feel in the life of a ten-year-old. Children look ahead. But mothers. We can always go back and remember.