You went after that photo like it was prey, she said. You were a fox, a panther, ferocious, determined.
You make it sound heroic.
It was also stupid, she snapped. There was no place to stop. You could have been hit by a car, that blue sedan in the photo, for instance, that beeped you to get off the road,
There was no other way, I said.
You could have let it go.
Never, When you are seized, you have no choice. You go after it like Amy Winehouse goes after the chorus of ‘Valerie’ or Eric Clapton the elation chords of ‘Layla’. There is total surrender to the feeling.The pursuit is everything.
The photo isn’t even that good, she said.
I got what I wanted. The sign. I would have climbed a precipice to get it
Sometimes I don’t understand you, she said.
Come on, I said, grabbing her hand, as we hopped back in the car and continued our journey, that sign disappearing in the rear-view