Sometimes I think my pictures pale in comparison to the experience of being there. Stopping for donuts on the way to the beach with the girls. Discussing the mystical aspects of Judaism with Gail. Sharing miles of foggy beach with hang gliders and ravens. The pictures are different. They transform the experience—the day, the moment, the girl—into something new. They are also reminders of what is lost. The moment has passed, and soon the day will be gone. The photographs will remain, though they will lie—or tell a new story.