After work today I had to walk over the former bridge to nowhere, where I was parked. Walking over this bridge I was in a strange mood. I had just worked the daylight shift and I never feel too rested on this shift. Anyhow, about halfway over the bridge. I noticed a perfectly intact windowpane floating in the middle of the river. And I had to stop on the bridge, lean over the railing to take a good look at this strange sight. The window was framed by the light from the sun glaring off the water around it. Once again I was regretting not having my camera. The current in the river was almost nonexistent so the window didn’t look like it was going anywhere. I even contemplated getting into my truck and going and getting my camera. But I decided I was too tired for that. I know the image now in my mind is better than the picture would have been, had I taken one. Some day I will get together some cameras and take all the pictures that I seem to always see. I wanted to go down to the river and open that window up. Maybe that is why writing may always be superior to photography. Because the images in writing are leaving more to the imagination, where as a photograph is too truthful. And writers do not have to always carry a camera. I remember my uncle telling me a story about when he was a young photographer for the Pittsburgh Press. He was walking along the riverfront on his lunch break when the boiler on the Delta Queen river boat blew up sending parts of the boat all over the river bank. He called his boss at the paper to tell him what was happening. I don’t need to mention what his boss said to him when he told him that he didn’t have his camera with him. Its funny because I never can remember seeing my uncle without a camera wrapped around his shoulder.