Can you tell this young mother is mad at us? Luckily, she went one way and we went the other. Savuti, Botswana.

Camouflage is the art of hiding in plain sight. Of standing perfectly still, keeping silent, blending in, getting lost in the background, resembling something else. It’s an art practiced to conceal feelings, disguise intent, blind danger. Sometimes it’s a necessary skill for survival. Even elephants know how to disappear.


A door closes behind me. Another one opens before me. My life: doors and side-doors, opening, closing, rooms I do not recognize, rooms that are familiar. Outdoors, indoors. Locked doors. Doors ajar. Double doors. Doors that squeak. Doors unhinged. Silent doors.
Latch, unlatch. Doors easy to open, doors impossible to shut. Solid doors, hollow doors. Doors that blow open, doors that slam shut.
Big doors. Small doors. Ornate doors, plain ones. Doors that open in. Doors that open out.
Yours is the door upon which I now knock. This day east of you, I would carry west, and lay upon your doorstep: a world without windows, without doors.