A couple of years ago, there was a fire in my apartment building. One neighbor’s failure to properly put out his cigarette burned down three adjacent apartments, one of which was my friends. In recalling the story of how his father had discovered his apartment was on fire, my friend related that there had only been enough time to grab some photographs. Of all the jewelry, clothing and decorations, why were his photographs more important? This brings me back to the discussion of the eidos of photography, which Barthes describes as death. Why is death the essence of photography? A photograph has the unique power to capture a moment that can never be recreated. It is a certificate of presence that something, somewhere or someone has existed. At the core of that presence, however, is an inherent absence. That which was will never be again. In that absence the essence of death is created. To truly understand something, we must approach it dialectically. Specifically, we can only establish one thing in relation to another such as life in terms of death. For example, there is no life without death. Therefore, by acknowledging something’s presence we must also acknowledge its absence in which death is then defined.  In looking at Camera Lucida, the Winter Garden photograph perfectly captures this idea. Not only is this photograph a reminder that his mother is dead, but it also serves to connect him to what he believes is the representation of his mother. This photograph marks her presence, but in doing so her absence as well. In looking at why my friend’s father forsook all of his personal belongings for his photographs is central to this idea as well. His photographs captured moments and memories that could never be again. Because our memories are fleeting, photographs always remind us of what was. They are markers for our personal histories. But in looking back we also have to recognize what is no longer there and this is essentially what makes a photograph special.