we prefer to believe that such unseemly bias is in other people, not in us. But why does the unease remain when we view an image like the one that shows Nathan, a policeman in full uniform, standing behind and embracing Robyn, a young woman in a tank top and short-shorts? How old is she? What is that look on her face? Is it apprehension, or is that just the way her face is? Why is this image even less comfortable to look at than the one of Lee and Lindsay, the nudists, who stand in a similar pose to that of Nathan and Robyn, and between whom there’s an even greater age gap? There is also a cumulative effect of seeing the several pictures here in which people of different races touch or hold each other. The racial division in the United States remains stark, with most of the population practicing some form of “separate but equal.” It is impossible to look at Renaldi’s photographs without being a little sad at how rare it is to see, on the streets, in the diners, in the parks and public places of this country, some version of the invented narratives they illustrate. Their photographic fiction is a reminder of how shoddy reality can be in comparison to the imagination.

— Teju Cole, Known and Strange Things, Faber & Faber, Ch. Touching Strangers, 2016