Dear Anonymous,
He doesn't like the camera much. But that day, a year or so ago, he gave permission. Gave himself to the image. The moment held a gravitas for me.
I had just been asked to read a letter to him from his mom. The carefully scripted handwritten letter was worn and wilted from the repeated crumpling from fist to pocket and back again.
It was full of love.
It was full of I love you son.
And I fell in love too.
All of us wanting to go home.
Oh, the heartbreaking complexity of our human hearts.