I assume she misses the purple haze when life was desperate and her desire was to escape. I watch as she is handed another camera and decide mine is better in it's bag. She tells someone to move the lighting an inch and asks the subject to look to their right. Two closings of the shutter and she shouts, Done, drops the camera into someone's hands, turns and begins walking toward the door.
I gather my stuff, try to catch up, Do you miss it?
Those early days with one camera, one lens, getting up at 6am to get the shot which always seemed to make the cover?
Her hand on the doorknob she stops and I almost run into her. That's what you came here to ask me?
Well. One of the questions.
Do you miss something about your life? Are you scared to move forward?
I don't know. Maybe. Who's interviewing who?
She smiles, opens the door. We walk into a bright sun from a dark studio. Get in the car, she says. Your answer is no.
I am grateful for others.