Twenty thousand feet in the air. Returning from Rome. He watched as the flight assistants squeezed through the aisle with a cart of snacks, listened as cellophane and snap-tops burst into a staccato of small explosions. Watched as people unfolded trays, listened as the translucent plastic cups clicked. Watched as passengers pressed back and stewardess reached across. Carbonated water, no ice, please. The plane banked and dipped. The sun streamed into the window. The photographer noticed, reached under his seat and extracted his Leica. He framed. He focused. He shot, and shot again. The almost imperceptible click of the shutter seemed to fill the air. Heads turned. What was he doing? The observer was now the observed. He raised from his seat for a better angle, held firm as the plane bounced in an air pocket, held firm as another passenger brushed by, held firm… then released the shutter to capture the flare of a ray of light stabbing his drink.