Deja Vu

When I was a child at home in rural Denmark I once did a dreadful thing. My father had hung a painting of Jesus above my bed and every night before closing my eyes I begged the man on the cross to look after my family. When my family collapsed anyway, I blinded Jesus. I still remember the smell of the burning canvas and the shock of suddenly seeing checkered wallpaper instead of Jesus' eyes. Since then I have travelled the world with my camera to find new ways of looking.