Let's call today: 'Wednesday, 8 November 2006'
wrote in the notebook:
I have a hero complex.
Today I learnt about the death of a 6ish month old boy that I'd done a shoot with, a week after I took the photos. He died of S.I.D.S
His mum came up to me as we packing up.
I recognised her; a pretty girl with long curly hair, one of the few real people that I get to meet everyday, and I remembered her being quite lovely.
We made eye contact and smiled at each other.
Eventually she slowly approached me and thanked me for taking the photos of her son, the boy with the ears on his hood, who was making me work for a smile.
She told me that they came out great, that she bought the whole collection, then that he died soon after.
For a moment I was silent.
All I could do was to say I'm sorry, and I told her we'll send out all the negatives etc for her to keep if she'd like.
She said yes thankyou.
Her eyes glossing with tiny tears, my hand on her shoulder; she looked so broken, and all I wanted to do was hold her.
As though that would help.
I hate seeing anyone in anguish.
Sometimes I'm reminded that despite how much feeling may be behind it, my touch isn't as powerful as I'd like, and I can't work miracles.
Sometimes, I just won't be able to make everyone feel better.
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