She wasn’t smiling.
She was screaming her lungs out —
because the man she loved had just slipped below the surface.
She was screaming her lungs out —
because the man she loved had just slipped below the surface.
I stood there, frozen, camera raised.
Not from cold, but from the unbearable tension of witnessing what I could not change.
Not from cold, but from the unbearable tension of witnessing what I could not change.
History remembers the iceberg.
I remember her face.
I remember her face.