December 18, 2010, Alkmaar, the Netherlands 18:48

 The camera is switched on and bounces a little as it begins to record a room with white walls and a door with black panes of glass. It is the inside of a home in the evening.  The view is from the surface of a desk or table. To the right of the door, there is a large black clock with golden roman numerals. There is the top rim of a tan office-chair in the foreground. On the wall behind the chair, there is a poster made of dark pink butcher paper, with a large red heart in the center and colored hand prints: The small hands of children pressed in bright paint. Taking awkward space in the foreground, there is a water glass which he has not removed from the frame. There is a shuffling noise as he adjusts the camera and comes to sit in front of it.

He is a confident man in his early thirties. He is wearing a sporty sweater with a collar, zippered down the front. It is dark brown with yellow stripes on the sleeves and the letters in yellow, “G S” on either side of the zipper. His face is expressive with prominent cheeks angling into a square jaw. His lips are full, almost femininely so. His words are glib and firm, and the smile that touches his mouth is at once knowing and playful. His forehead his high, with a receding hairline, and his forehead creases with passion and intensity as he speaks. His eyes are his most arresting feature. There is an alertness and intelligence in his gaze and very little self-consciousness as he addresses the camera:

 “Okay, Elisabeth,” he says in a business-like tone, settling into the seat.

“Um, this is very strange because I am talking to you and you can hear my voice now, and I am looking in this camera.”

He smiles as he says this, perhaps struck with the absurdity of what he has begun. Then he becomes serious, and speaks earnestly.

“I do this because I…want to…share some information with you. I want you to know that…I very deeply care about you. And I love you as I have never loved anything before. And...”

He pauses, seeming to grasp for the right way to structure his next thought. “I know that it’s a very difficult situation. I know what my part in that is, and that, therefore, I am not entitled to have any expectations. But I am allowed to have hope. And all I can say is that I will respect you, whichever path you choose. And I love you, and I fear, forever.”

These last words are spoken with a wide, mischievous smile that promises much but lingers only briefly, before he reaches for the camera and the screen goes dark.