Some days, I wish I were invisible.

Some days, I wish I were invisible.

I had to endure the pointed words of family as I photographed as the coroner carried their loved one from the house where he was murdered. I hate being "that guy" hanging around waiting for the body to emerge so I can get a photo. I feel like a vulture, the quintessential bad stereotype for photojournalists.

I've tried talking or reasoning with people and explain why I'm there. I have to be there, it's my job to be there. It doesn't work, they hate you more. No, I just don't say anything. They can say anything they'd like, I don't care. I feel like they have the right to yell at me taking pictures of their dead father, sister, son, friend.

There were powerful images to be had. When family members showed up there were these powerful moments when family members found out about the murder. Maybe I should have pushed harder for the stronger image...but it just wasn't in me. Maybe I'm getting older and the push for that great image isn't as strong? Maybe I'm getting wiser and could see I wasn't going to get anything powerful enough to balance the fury the family was going to dish out on me? Maybe I'm lazy? I was late for Monday Chinese Lunch with my friends...

Anyway, it's just a photo. A record of a sad moment, a memory of a lost life, an act of hate, a cop waiting, just another murder. It's just a newspaper photo.

Some days, I wish I were invisible.