I walked on, enjoying the thought that, in my camo bush shirt and dull green longs, I might be almost invisible. To come to know something well—some person, some place, some event—you have to interact with it, but to interact with something is to change it, and sometimes the change affects the characteristics you most love. Sometimes those changes might be for the better; too often they’re not; most often we don’t know whether they’re good or bad, and the very concept of good and bad might be irrelevant or meaningless. If my presence here, moving through the dark under the trees along a rough track, changes this place, I want those changes to be for the better, but I have no way of knowing. The best I can do, then, is to have as little effect on the place as I can, and that means moving quietly, disturbing nothing, leaving no trace, and resisting the urge to take anything. Sometimes, even photographs seem too intrusive.