When my camera download died is when I felt myself finally geared up into taking real pictures again. The irony of this is no more lost to me than the multitude of little chocolates that Ryan has scattered through my room. Picture a girl, pale skinned, almost the tint of home made strawberry ice-cream. Remove her shirt and put a cloth over her face. One eye can see you, the other is closed. Title this do not shoot me. Picture a boy, his arms are stretched out and his face painted gold. Picture bottle green velvet against mulberry crimson, a giant red lizard like sleeping with a voodoo doll, a feather mask dipped in a bowl of dead flowers, an x-ray lit from behind over the head of a sleeping man, this is what the doctor said – a eulogy for the dead party city. Click.