“I remember thinking he looked like someone in a movie,” she said. “Like someone who knew exactly where he was going.”
The last entry in Daniel Voss’s field notebook from the spring of 1974 was written on the evening of June 30th, 1974, 6 weeks before his departure for Wyoming.
It was a description of the light on Kaunga Lake at sunset. The way the water held the color after the sky had released it, the way that quality of late light made the ordinary surface of things, a dock, a canoe, a flat stone skipped by a child in the afternoon, seemed to contain a significance that reason could not account for.
He had written at the end of that entry a single line separate from the descriptive paragraph bracketed as a thought apart from the rest.
The photograph doesn’t capture the light. It captures the fact that the light was there.
