When I look at this old photograph of two men in sepia suits sat within a sepia landscape, my eye drifts to the face on the right. I know that man, that look of intensity : although reality dictates that I don't know him at all - he came into my life by chance. However, he passed me in the street the other day, or maybe he popped into my pub for a pint. Or perhaps he is related to my third cousin or married to the women who used to live up the road. And he knows that I know him - you can tell by that questioning look. He is not going to tell me the answer to the riddle - just sit there and smoke his sepia cigarette.