“I photograph to validate my existence, sad story”, he says, fully accepting as if it were a fact that this is what pictures do and that it is the pictures that validate and that it is within their power, implied if not stated.

Then goes on to think about the camera and its function, asking if it approves more than allows. Provides approval to be in a given place, at a given time. To take up space. Take? Space, that is someone’s? He digresses. It excuses, the camera: “Sorry about this”, it says, half-hearted, hardly audible.

Then what is it, he wonders, the wish to show to others the validation, approval, excuse. “Hello, see me, here is my right—sorry—excuse to exist, validated.” As if it were a passport.