At the foot of the mountain, we pause for water and photographs. This, we will tell our friends, family, and anyone who may take an interest, is where we were. This is what we achieved. We’ll point to the relentless sun and kicked-up dust, the broken trail and precipitous drops, and the fact that we were inappropriately dressed for such an undertaking, with most of us in slippers and dressing-gowns. We’ll point to the carrion birds and helicopters, and explain how unexpectedly hard it can be to tell the difference when you haven’t slept for countless nights and your eyes are smeared with dirt and fear. But when we point to the water, we’ll see that there was no water, and when we try to explain, we’ll see that no one is listening. Who took these photographs? we’ll ask the emptiness in our featureless cells.
.
Oz Hardwick
Picture Caravaggio
.