She had an older brother in VietNam. She might be worrying for him here, in this captured moment. A young woman being photographed by a friend, looking off into the distance worrying about her brother who, let's say for the sake of drama, is actually in combat at that very instant. It's possible. This was c. 1967-1968. The war was hot and furious. In fact, if her brother wasn't in combat during the very instant we're considering, someone was. So let's say it's her brother. I'm opposed to the war. So is she. We're in the quiet countryside of upstate New York. We believe in the possibility of a loving, peaceful world. We dream of it. We're committed to bringing about such a world, and we're dreaming and making art in the quiet, beautiful countryside of America while her brother is at that very instant firing his M16 blindly into a hut in VietNam. There's a tunnel under the hut. Out of it soldiers come screaming. It's like one of those Volkswagen commercials where hundreds of passengers keep streaming impossibly out of the car. They come out of the hut by the dozens, and though some fall from his gunfire and the gunfire of his buddies, it's obvious what has happened, that they've been led into a trap, and in only a few more moments they will be overrun. That's happening at the very instant you are here observing in this young woman's eyes. Her brother is not dead yet. That's still to come. Instead this is the moment of his realization, the moment he knows his life is about to end. This is that very moment, while his sister worries over his well-being and a young man just about his age, his fellow-countryman, takes her picture.