There is a Joseph Koudelka photograph that pictures a newspaper, the Herald Tribune, spread as a tablecloth. A baguette. La vache qui rit cheese. Foil containers. A carton of long life milk. An enamel cup. An apple cut in half – its core a star.
The meal of a traveller in black and white. And there is the open pocket knife. The wooden handled, French, Opinel N° 8 knife. An assassin’s knife said Jacqueline when I proudly displayed my purchase fresh from a Paris market.

I like the Koudelka photograph very much, it takes me back to travels I have made. I recall the tensions. The atmospheres. The hard streets. The soft faces and occasional sweet smiles.
And a woman beckoning and two naked children scrambling up a muddy bank as the train hurtled by into the Czechoslovakian night... It was June, 1992.