Father.

My Dad's an old time fight fan, a boxing guy, and whenever I watch a big fight - such as Ricky Hatton's bout last night - I always watch it through his eyes, and maintain a running dialogue with him in my mind. When I say I watch it through his eyes, in a sense I mean this quite literally. My Dad lost roughly seventy per cent of his vision this year, and can no longer follow the fights as closely as he'd like. Nor is he able to read or paint, two passions (and gifts) I developed through him.
This image was taken in Williamstown this year, a casual snapshot. But in taking it, I wondered what, and how much my Dad was seeing as he stared out. I wondered what he might be thinking, gazing into a hazy future at the end of this most difficult of years. Once again, I was struck by his enormous dignity in the face of hardship... as I have been so many times before. And finally, I was aware in the moment of how grateful I am for all I've been able to absorb from the great reservoir of knowledge and learning and kindness that he has afforded me.