2/19

yesterday i went out to get some bananas for breakfast. as i left the deli a huge wind blew all the garbage on the street up and around in an amazing dance, so of course i made an attempt at capturing it. after i snapped and was turning around, i heard a loud voice yell: "OH FUCK" and i saw a guy who looked decidedly nuts (not too unusual in nyc). i hesitated a second, but after taking a few more steps, i saw what he had been responding to: a man was lying flat on his back in the middle of west broadway & grand in front of the van that had hit him. someone was cradling his head. i ran to get the 2 cops i had seen, close to canal street, engrossed in conversation as gridlock built up in front of them.

when i got back up to grand, there was a crowd of people, some snapping away and one videotaping. the man who had been hit was being strapped to a stretcher (he was alive but badly injured). i did what i had planned on doing next anyway: i took this picture. i had passed by the day before and had planned to come back to photograph her; she was directly across the street from where the man was hit.

i walked back home and burst into tears, i don't even know why really...
was it shock?
was it how vulnerable he looked lying there?
was it that confirmation of how one's life can turn on a dime?
was it that i was a picture away from it having been me?

was this the picture i was going to take, or did something change because of what had happened?