The Weight of an Empty Room
The first photograph I took of Gregory was not really a photograph at all. It was a record of an absence. I had pointed my camera at his study at MIT — Building 4, room 127, the one with the broad window that looked out over the grey, churning waters of the Charles River — and I had pressed the shutter. The flash went off, a brief, blinding white strobe that momentarily stripped the room of its...
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