Behind the Camera's Tunneling Distance

Once on an overnight train from Barcelona to Venice, this boy became my friend. Outside my compartment he sat, cat like, waiting for me to compliment him on the fearless red of his shoes. He liked to stand at the windows, looking out. I liked that, too. He performed acrobatics on the old blue rug. I was his audience.

He wanted his portrait taken. I took several.

I escape mirrors, as you know. I refute photographs of myself (just ask Tirsa). I am out with my camera, most every day, tunneling a distance. I wonder now, looking back on this boy, how it might feel to look a camera in the eye and to say, undaunted, See me.