Riley

seven years ago, the US economy was trying its damndest to go into the dumper, mostly as the tech bubble exploded. terrorism had struck the US only two months previous, and fear was in the air. given the job market at the time, i was in the middle of selling a house and moving to the UK as preface to what i thought would be an early retirement.

among the major positives during my short life in europe was a welcome and fanatic return to a love i'd had thirty years before, one i could not afford at the time: photography.

among the many landscapes that became backdrops for the lens were also a few portraits. my favourite subject was a precocious little girl, my goddaughter, born to an american mother and a scottish father not long before i arrived. the camera loved her as much as i did, and it was a profound gift to have documented a bit of her first few years. her sister reid is who you see every time you come to my blog page; she's the header photo of a sleeping child in a dark room, wrapped quietly in her mother's arms in a trying time.

this particular photo, however, is one year into my visit, a difficult-for-me-to-believe seven years ago this week. riley was visiting my friend and i in a sussex coastal town when she became ill, face deeply-flushed, and had just been put down for a quick nap in the living room. seconds later, the camera allows me to relive the moment.