Over the last days I became quite friendly with Billy, or he with me, I guess it depends how you want to look at it. He speaks with a very quiet, somewhat higher voice for a man, and we talked about a number of things, one of them his eating disorder. He suggested, one day I could take pictures of him, because he wanted to see what he looks like during an attack, and he wanted to show it to people, because most people with bulimia are ashamed of it and keep it a secret, and he felt the source of the issue is to be found right there. He has noticeably low self-esteem and seems gladly the first one to give himself the blame whenever something goes wrong.

Yesterday afternoon he came back to the hotel carrying several plastic bags full of groceries, and he was noticeably upset. I asked him what was up, but he didn’t want to talk about it, just smiled and said “Nothing.” and disappeared in his room. He staid in for some time, then after a while came back out and said to me “If you want to take your pictures now, maybe you have time now…?”

I followed him, he led us to an old empty industrial warehouse. Nobody was inside only some garbage, dust, gravel and a few thrown away furniture that maybe once belonged to the office. At the end of one large hall in the back of it was an old toilet. I didn’t think it was even connected. Billy took his shoes off, which I thought was a odd, and made it seem like the beginning of a religious ritual. But in the end Billy told me to stay back, he said he didn’t feel ready to share this bit, but I could take pictures after he was done. So I waited patiently, and worried about him. It took over an hour, I saw him standing by the wall leaning over that toilet bowl and I listened to him retching, and I didn’t quite know what to do. I thought about getting help or wandering off, but eventually he came back, looking at me with apologetic eyes and said: “I am sorry!” He seemed exhausted and relieved at the same time.

“No big deal, Billy!” I replied sheepishly, but it sounded not exactly the right thing. I wanted to say something like “Thank you for your trust!” but didn’t manage to say it. “You can take your pictures now, if you want.” I started a bit hesitantly, but then ended up with a series, Billy wiping his mouth and nose, tying his hair together and picking up his woolly hat he had taken off. For some strange reason it had been easier taking pictures of Larry doing dope, it seemed less emotional.
I later asked Billy, why he choose such an odd place to vomit, and he told me, he does not want to bother people who can hear him throwing up in the hotel, and he does not want to be bothered by them either. This was his private time and place to make peace with the world.

Josiane Keller “Billy wiping his mouth” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy’s hat on the ground” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy’s sweater” (2016)

Josiane Keller “toilet” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy wiping his nose” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy tying his hair together” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy tying his hair together 2” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy kneeling on the ground” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy picking up his hat 2” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy picking up his hat 3” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy picking up his hat 5” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy picking up his hat 6” (2016)

 Josiane Keller “Billy putting his hat on 2” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy putting his hat on 3” (2016)

Josiane Keller “Billy” (2016)

We went back to the hotel after that, each not saying very much. In the lobby I gave Billy a hug. He smelled like stale cake. He never told me what had happened earlier that afternoon. I found out later from Larry, who is friends with Billy. He said Billy had been attending a job training. Billy has a degree in English, but some various random jobs aside is currently unemployed. He is trying to get a better paid day job, also because his eating disorder is very costly in food, medical and dentist bills, and to do so Billy is attending all sorts of training sessions.
Larry knew about it because he and his friend had given Billy a ride to the center where the training took place that day. The training was a 5 day-course and apparently Billy had saved up for a while to even be able to pay the course fees. Already on the first day the course leader had for some reason picked Billy out from the group at several occasions and made fun of him, which is pretty easy to do, because as much as Billy tries not to draw any attention to himself out he does stand out due to his high pitch voice, foreign accent, lanky movements and being so skinny. Eventually several odd types in class kicked in. Billy initially tried laughing it off, but by the second day it got to him when the course leader threw an aggressive tantrum at him. Under the pretense of having a headache he left the workshop at lunch break, apologizing, as usual. On the way back he bought a ton of groceries which he ate partially walking home along the way and the rest up in his room. The rest I witnessed and took photographs of.

The next day Billy returned to the workshop as if nothing had happened and continued it til the fourth day, during that time the bullying continued; on the fourth day Billy stayed until end of the workshop that evening, although he was being bullied again by course leader and class mates; he did not say anything to anybody, but decided not to continue the last day and dropped out. That evening he was throwing up for several hours and came back by 2 am in the early morning. He did not receive the diploma the training would include after completion and had to borrow money from ChoCho, because the two eating binges that week plus the workshop fees had eaten up his budget for the next two weeks, plus his rent would be due in a couple of days.

Although I have no publisher for this documentary yet and so no advance I paid Billy some modelling fee for the pictures I took to at least get through the next week and pay ChoCho back, although ChoCho isn’t stingy and would be OK to wait a bit til repayment. Just I am not sure if giving Billy money in times of distress is not going to be invested in more fuel for further throw-up-sessions.