A vernissage in Hilversum, the exhibition of photographer (and friend) Vincent Mentzel; I said a few words about photographers, spies, Vincent himself and John le Carré.
Afterwards a woman in her late sixties approached me. ‘Do you remember me?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ I said.
She explained who she was, the widow of a news presenter, she had approached me back in 2018 when I was embedded in the Stedelijk in Amsterdam.
‘I don’t like your words,’ she said, ‘but your voice, your voice makes me cry.’
‘That’s something,’ I said.