Our son and his photographs. When we moved into this apartment, she chose four of his photos and had them framed. I had my own suggestions, but she immediately rejected them, because their subjects “didn’t bring healthy energy into the room.” For instance, my favorite photograph of Harun’s is of a girl in red, beside a large fire. She hesitated, but then confessed that she didn’t want to “hang a fire” on the wall of our room. Opposite our bed is a photograph of a girl sitting on the edge of a tall building, her bare feet hang in the air, and below her is Route 66 and a green traffic sign displaying the turnings for Pentagon City, Crystal City, and Alexandria. The river intersects with the road, you can see all the bridges apart from Key Bridge, and in the distance the tower of the airport (DCA). For the last twenty years, this is the way I have driven to work. How often have I turned at this very crossroads toward Alexandria! How often have I crossed each of these bridges, at all hours of the day and in all seasons. No space in the world is so imprinted in my body as this panorama, which I see, spread out, from my bed. Earlier, when I looked at the photograph, I used to pay attention to the depth of the image and the familiar roads, but now I’m disturbed by the girl sitting on the edge of the high building in Rosslyn. Her face is covered with her hair. She’s wearing a dress (a wedding dress?) that is probably white, but because of the morning (or evening?) light, its material has a violet tinge. I hadn’t thought of this till now, but that girl could have been Sanja in her late twenties or early thirties. It’s quite possible that she identified with her, and that’s why she chose this photograph and put it in an important place, so that she sees it every day before she drifts off to sleep. She didn’t want to hang up the picture of the girl beside the fire (for fear of its dubious “energy” in the room), but she chose a girl sitting on the rim of an abyss. What was it she had relinquished?

“I don’t feel like going back to my job. I studied philosophy, but it didn’t get me anywhere. I did tedious, bureaucratic work. Now I’d like to change my profession.”

“What would you like to do now?”

“I’d like to look after dragons. I know dragons don’t exist, but one can be a keeper of creatures from stories. They, too, need protection.”