“Maybe, just this once, I can have a picture when I’m clear. A picture that really shows me, not some blur or shadow, not some mysterious stranger. One last engraving on the thread of time. I raise my camera in front of me, pointing at my face. I can see myself in the reflection of its eye. For some reason I’m bald. My hand rests on the trigger. The crabs keep marching.
‘Cheese.’”
J Raeder
