Death always get's it's pound of flesh...

I can’t say why I went over there. I had no business going over there. I don’t normally do these types of things, nor do I like people who do them, but I went over to Heath Ledgers apartment building which is around the corner from my office. On the approach the street was crammed with reporters and camera men. There was a barricade to keep them at a distance. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach but began taking pictures of the mad press as they waited for some crumb of information. I walked around them and made my way to the path that led to vestibule of the apartment building, there was just light foot traffic of “regular people”, some tourists and a handful of local residents annoyed by the instant notoriety. There was just a small grouping of things at the entrance—flowers, notes, candles. I started to feel dizzy and light headed. I couldn’t concentrate and maybe took 10 pictures, none of which were any good and weren’t even in focus. I had the sudden need to leave. It was like my soul knew I shouldn’t be there. I walked away crossed the street and as I made it to the other side, vomited.

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