10th December 2015

I remember opening my eyes and seeing blurred shapes. I didn’t know where I was. I heard some voices...I wanted to go back to sleep, to wake up from that bad dream back in the last moment I could remember, far from the operating room and the operating table. My mind clouded with doubt, I began to have an inkling that this might actually be happening...“Take a picture of me ...”, “take my picture...”, I then asked, wanting to see them immediately afterwards...wanting to know nothing beyond whether I was asleep or awake. I can’t take photos in dreams, much less look later at the photos I take. This must have been real.

I remember it as a tremendously revealing moment. To realize that I take photos in that altered state of consciousness to understand the world, to know that I’m not asleep, as a necessity. It's not about taking good or bad pictures, it’s about holding on to a hundredth of a fleeting second and making sure that it happened.