I flung my jacket over my shoulder, Frank Sinatra style. I was full of references. He was full of light and shadow. “It’s back,” he said. He took a few more shots. “I got it.” “How do you know?” “I just know.” He took twelve pictures that day. Within a few days he showed me the contact sheet. “This one has the magic,” he said. When I look at it now, I never see me. I see us.