Long before I met him, a photographer friend warned me that I would not like Daniel Lutheran. Supposedly, he was the antithesis of everything hardened shit-talkers embodied. “The kid is creepy-nice, like always happy,” the rumors went. “He’s constantly smiling and positive. He’s a pretty fucked character.” Daniel sounded awful. Almost Canadian. What manner of man was constantly happy?

WHAT WAS HE HIDING?

“I’M FULL AMATEUR, IF EVEN.
SHE’S PRO AS CAN BE.
I’M NOT KNOWING WHAT TO DO.”