One winter night, I noticed my neighbor standing in the window, staring out into the night. Was he looking at me, I wondered; I began watching him. Day and night, he stood in the window, never leaving, as if he was a prisoner in his own home. As I continued to watch him, I realized I was mirroring his behavior, becoming a sort of reflection of him who also stood in his home and peered out through the open window for hours at a time. I felt a connection, then, to this stranger across the way. I was at the beginning of my life as an independent adult, and as I would soon find out, my neighbor was at the end of his.
Eight months after I began observing my neighbor, he passed away. A hearse took him from his home, never to be seen again, save this sequence of images, which I consider to be a self portrait as much as it is a window into the life of another.