At this moment, everything seemed so precious, important, almost magical; the making of a portrait which we wanted unique had caused enthusiasm from the discovery of the result, and a little bit of anxiety; we hoped we had captured what we had imagined or felt. Months, even years later, what’s left of that excitement ? Did all those hopes we placed in one photograph turn out well ? Was the energy which animated us only a mere flash in the pan ? Sometimes the portraits have been forgotten, never showed or even printed. They often got lost, became anonymous among others like them. "In some way, I'll be here" is a return to those out fires. In some way.