"I have come home and I'm looking through the window, outside it's snowing, no waves at all. The beach is white, the fence posts are grey. I am looking back into a world gone forever. Thinking of a time that  will never return. A book of photographs is looking at me. Twenty-five years of looking for the right road. Post cards from everywhere. If there are any answers I have lost them. The best would be not writing at all."
ROBERT FRANK: The lines of my hand, 1971

"June asks me: Why do you take these pictures? Because I am alive ..."
ROBERT FRANK, Sept. 1980