holy intrusion town

today i had a major wakeup call about the level of... "intimacy" required to make or tell the kind of stories that move me the most. i always loved the black and white documentary photos I saw in LIFE magazine (though i can't remember the last time i picked up an issue, i know i had LIFE photos taped on my wall in high school). i dream of making a 6 minute radio story that.. would make people leave their engine running in the driveway to finish listening to a story. and after watching War Photographer, and reading the taking-stock paper for one of my favorite radio stories from last semester, i realize that inches away from the face of the starving baby, crying widow, ranting activist, wrinkly war veteran, dying friend, is somebody cranking and clicking a camera or holding a puffy intrusive microphone hoping to capture the juiciest/truest/revelatory moments on film or tape. obsessing over the intrusion of this work is not contructive and if i think about it too long, even paralyzing. but i think, finally, 3 weeks in, i realized this is going to be harder than i thought. how bout that, amigos?