DAY 16: Mark Kauffman, 1950

He brings me a lot of joy, this little one. There’s no hate or prejudice within his bones. If I’m in London or wherever on my day to day tasks I can always return home to his face. The day may be low or high he doesn’t care, he welcomes me the same way everyday.

Humans should take their day to day love like dogs. Passionate and caring no matter what. I pity households that do not experience that small moment of joy every day when they walk through the door. It’s special and can lift even the blackest of hearts.

I wonder what I’ll do without him when he’s gone. It’s such a heartache that they are only with us for such a short time. But I suppose that’s their power, they’re not here for long, so they give us all they have.

He’s an extension of me and without him I would be a hell of a lot moodier than I am.


DAY 15: Larry Burrows, 1970.

It was strength, it was pain, it was survival. She had lost it all. But there she stood, bold in the face of adversity. There was nothing left to lose. It was already gone.

When she really thought about it though it wasn’t a case of being strong. She didn’t have the capacity to think about anything in any particular way. It was just a state of being. Maybe when she was out of the shock she would become strong. Or weaker. She wouldn’t know.

Time would pass and a new perspective would place itself over her. When it would happen it would happen. There was no point in waiting for it to come.

Recovery. Time. Healing.

DAY 14: Joe McNally, 1992.

It’s all light and dark. Rising and falling. Some say that the most heartbroken are the ones we think are the happiest. He knew that to be true.

There’s an old ancient proverb about happiness that changed his life. The obsession for everlasting happiness is unattainable. Being in a constant state of happiness is not sustainable, there needs to be darker moments for the light. Just like you need to have frozen fingers in the middle of Winter to appreciate the sweating brow of Summer.

It was always something he thought about but never told anyone. Preaching about it would only distract people from his state of happiness. When they would ask him why he was always so happy, he would tell them that he wasn’t. But that was it, he would never elaborate.

DAY 13: Nina Leen, 1949.

I don’t want daddy to go.

We’re on our way to pick up daddy.

He keeps telling me that he won’t be gone for long.

He’s been away such a long time.

When he comes back he wants me to be able to ride my bike by myself.

I can do a wheelie now.

At the station mummy cried.

At the station mummy cried.

He said he’s going to bring home lots of things for us to play with.

I wonder what he’s going to bring. I hope it’s a skipping rope.

The train is taking him away.

I can see the steam in the distance.

Annabelle cries.

Annabelle has fallen over on the platform, she cries.

Daddy’s gone.

Daddy’s home.

DAY 12: Herbert Gehr, 1945.

It was a homecoming of disappointment. They were expecting it all. A party, frolics and fun, but they never got it. So they took the opportunity to make their own entertainment.

Sam, in the middle, had to be hoisted up as they stumbled through Times Square. He took advantage of the whisky and it was biting back at him.

To his left, Jackson, pretended like he was having fun. But in reality he wanted to be at home with Janice. He hadn’t seen her in months and instead he had to prop up one he had spent every night for the past few months with.

To the right was Lobby. That’s his nickname anyway, we’ll, nickname of a nickname. They called him Lobster. Ginger hair and skin that turned a lovely raw shade of red with any hint of the sun. He was fairly drunk too.

It was what they deserved to give themselves after their time away. This one wasn’t nice. Lots of blood.

Sam took this time the hardest which is probably why he wanted to fight with the liquor. Being around him made Jackson appreciate what he had. Whereas Lobby, he had nothing much to lose anyway.

DAY 11: Charles Steinheimer, 1946.

They would grow up to be notorious. A duo of fine proportions, no one could compare. They ripped through wherever they went. People would turn their heads to look as they passed. They weren’t lovers, or even friends. Especially not friends towards the end. They were sibling who tore lives apart.

Criminality wasn’t bred into them but it found a way into their veins. If one stole, the other had to kill. It was a competition of brutality for decades.

It took its toll on many people. Their mother, their community, one another. It was draining.

Towards the end they hated one another. I won’t speak about how it ended, that’s for another day, when we have more time. All I wanted to say for now is when you meet him, for god sake, please look him in the eye.

DAY 10: Lisa Larsen, 1953.

She looked at him with magnetism. Her gaze drew everyone in the room, but him. It was a partnership that weighed in his favour.

Her eyes dragged with each movement he took. There were too many pleasures in life for him to ever be fixed in one state. He was never meant for marriage, never meant for children, never meant for stability.

He was always in circumstances that aligned deviance with morality. His corruption spurred attraction in his character. People longed for his charm, they wanted his drama.

She wanted it the most, but she never got it. She just picked up the pieces when it all went wrong. If she had known what would have happened on that day some day that she would never have married him. But that’s not true, she knew. All along. From the start.

But she loved him, she loved him, loved him, loved him.