When using a literal translation of the word, ‘photograph’ means ‘written light’. In this book the author offers the reader/viewer a collection of ‘textual illumination’ in no particular order. The accompanying short short-stories-in some cases no more than a few words-are literary accessories to the visual text. Rather than mimic a technophile and focus on how each image came about (aperture setting, focal length, lens type, lm, etc.)-which may be a conventional way of augmenting photographic images-I borrow instead Roland Barthes’ take on photographs, and treat what the camera captured as something that cannot be repeated. In other words, the HOW of the photograph is not as important as WHAT is made visible with light and shadow. Continuing with Barthes’ ideas from ‘Camera Lucida’, conceptually these ‘things written with light’ are all ‘punctum’ rather than ‘studium’. They represent what caught my eye over the years. Sometimes I framed my subjects consciously, at other times I only realized later the significance of a particular frame. Finally, Jean-Michel Rabate writes that Barthes’ ‘Camera Lucida’ was a very moving autobiographical disclosure of his love for his mother under the guise of a study of photography. This collection of images is a disclosure of my love for my parents-a creative home maker and an innovative newspaper journalist-under the guise of a collection of photographs. The act of photographing taught me to look carefully at the world, and to respect, to take a second look (photography is that as well) across the scales from details to landscapes. Finally, capturing photographs is always possessive. I gladly admit to being a visual prowler in search of beauty, and to the taking of all the images in this book-with one exception, which is duly noted.