When I take photographs, my body inevitably enters a trancelike state. Briskly weaving my way through the avenues, every cell in my body becomes as sensitive as radar, responsive to the life of the streets. . . If I were to give it words, I would say: "I have no choice. . . I have to shoot this. . . I can't leave this place for another's eyes. . . I have to shoot it. . . I have no choice. " An endless, murmuring refrain.
The doctors told me I'd be fine if I play only golf and tennis doubles for the rest of my life. But I dive. I dogsled. I trek. I guess I'll have surgery.