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Today I sit in my overstuffed chair, idled and lame. A deep knee contusion has confined me for weeks and denied me the photographic fodder of the outside world. A better man would make the best of the situation and photograph his battered purple knee or the lines of the crutch at his side. But I am taking a different route. I am retreating a month into the past and stopping on a quiet Norfolk morning when the light was so soft and smooth it seemed to be made of liquid.

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June 2005