A father approached me and asked why I was photographing his children. He was serious and looked rather threatening. Menacing. Ready for action, even here in a rather tight public (air) space.

He was well within his rights. He didn’t know me, or what I may be up to. So many perverts and creeps, I could be another that simply needed a painful lesson to curb my demonic appetite.

I doubt I convinced him of anything admirable within my twisted vision, but I showed him my vast array of uncommon photographs as well as my perspective. He looked puzzled but also relieved that my portfolio was not necessarily sinister. His son was safe, but he demanded I stop. I agreed and apologized.  Thankfully my spouse was not accompanying me this flight, or I would have undoubtedly received a far greater reprimand – perhaps even taking my phone away. The ultimate punishment!

I wondered how Winogrand navigated such circumstances without being pummeled.

The sisters had watched the conversation unfold but said nothing, only with their disdainful eyes beyond the protective masks. They would certainly encounter far worst exchanges the rest of their long lives in a world where the Phallus rules.

Was I truly an exception? I assaulted their personal space to selfishly honor my personal creative expression. “Get close,” said Steigler. “Invade their space if you want to capture true emotion!” I fully understood the lines crossed.

A week from now I’d be long forgotten. Or maybe an uncomfortable joke at a cocktail party.  But I selfishly carry that image and time forever. And such miniscule moments amongst billions of journeys feed the monster I’ve become. Respect, absolutely, but still be brave. Boundaries, check.

Still, get close.