At dawn and dusk birds cover the sky and rush by my window almost touching, with their wings fluttering. The fog rolls off the Boston Harbor and swishes around tall handsome new buildings. Also the old and quaint. The sun rises so quickly its blinding first light makes kaleidoscopic changes by the millisecond. The dance of these elements thrills me. I make photographs to capture what I can see, and what I cannot because of rapid changes. Milan Kundera, the Czechoslovakian author, in The Book of Laughter and Forgetting referred to the sound of a golden ring falling in a silver basin. I want this elusive quality in my photographs. It is a paradoxical balance of mystery and clarity. Something perhaps beyond beauty.