I'm an amateur photographer. I think that I will never be a professional photographer, because I am frequently unable to take a shot of someone sad. When I see someone sad, I often feel like it would be a terrible invasion for me to capture that moment, even though I see in my head the amazing picture it would make. Click.
After the first tower collapsed, I stood for a time in the lobby of my building, 8 blocks south, unsure of whether I should leave. An old man walked in from the dust cloud, covered from head to toe in grey. He wiped off his glasses, sat down on the bench in the lobby, took a comb out of his pocket, and struggled to comb his hair, encrusted and sticky.
There it was, the Pulitzer Prize Photo, staring me in the face.
I had my camera in my hand.
I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it over.