The photo features this faceless girl with little outstanding identification and little discernable features behind the foggy glass interior. However, the few details speak immense volume to me. There's something about her face, almost as if she would give anything to be out of that radiation center and onto the street with her dog. There is weakness in her posture, but not in the sense that some people would imagine. It looks to me like she's aching to be out there and longing for company she probably hasn't had in days or weeks. This photo was taken after the March 2011 earthquake and tsunami disaster outside of a makeshift facility that is meant to cleanse people with high radiation levels. The man outside of the glass must feel a sense of pain for the woman he can't talk to. He must know that this dog is the only thing bringing the woman happiness and hope in the present moment. He must understand that this woman is very sick and may not live to see her dog in person, so this moment is bitterly sweet.
If you notice, the dog is delighted to see her. He has given his full attention to her, trying to get through the glass to sniff her hand or lick her face. The bond between a person and his or her dog is incredible in how two different species can display such compassion for one another.
When I see this photograph, I feel a wave of sadness wash over me. I don't know the fate of the woman, but I get this feeling that this may be her last moment to be completely happy with no worries evading her thoughts. The weather looks gloomy, the air seems cold, and the overall feeling seems so stoic, yet so vulnerable. The woman has had to be strong in therapy in hopes of recovering, but seeing her dog tears down that wall and replaces it with longing and anticipation. She just wants to get out and see that dog.
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