Grief, it seemed, was a physical place.

I love to swim, and I love being near water.

Then she had been a fiancee, a young wife, and a mother, and she had discovered that these words were far too small ever to contain the experience.

Once, this whole world had been hidden beneath a shallow sea.

There was something not quite right about her eagerness, an eerie kind of voyeurism in her need for bad news.

He could hardly imagine anymore what his life would be without the weight of his hidden knowledge. He'd come to think of it as a kind of penance. It was self-destructive, he could see that, but that was the way things were. People smoked, they jumped out of airplanes, they drank too much and got into their cars and drove without seat belts.

Photography is all about secrets... The secrets we all have and will never tell.