I confess.  I am a people watcher.  I am fascinated by people.  Some people call it voyeurism.  I, however, actually turned it into a career. 

We are fascinating.  How we interact, how we do not interact.  What we do to ourselves and one another.  In love, getting a divorce, under stress, with child.  Introverts, extroverts.  Homocide and suicide.  Whenever I see people, I mean really see someone, I can’t help wondering what they are thinking.  Its my nature, having spent a goodly amount of my career in the therapist’s chair. 

These folks were seated behind us on a tram in Seattle.  I love the expressions on both of their faces.  Every time I look at this, I feel concerned she is getting some terribly bad news.  Him–I am not so sure he doesn’t want to march up the aisle and take my camera away.  Perhaps he’s wondering why I’m bothering to take a picture of him.  Or maybe he doesn’t even see me.  He might just be staring forward, tuned out of the world for the time being.

Interestingly, people are the most difficult subjects for me to photograph.  For all the secrets I will take to the grave with me, all the things I’ve been told in the confidential setting of a 55 minute hour, photographing individuals feels intrusive.  And so, tomorrow, I will go off and work on this, moving ever so very slightly out of my own comfort zone, taking at least one or two pictures of someone, somewhere.

Moving forward, just like the tram.