There is an emptiness in this man that cannot believe he even has to run for the position he desires. What about what we want. I failed as a writer, but not as a photographer. This photograph is tiresome. It’s overly pixilated. The photograph is juxtaposed against all the other photographs on the Big Page. But it is following the same hues, especially the reds and orange. Yes. It stands out but so what. I would suggest black and white because the hair will be colorless. It will not be outrageous, and it will go a long way toward bringing him down to mother earth which is where we live. In nuance. In communities. In relationships. In marriages. In struggle. We do all of this without killing anyone. The person we should be talking to is Justin Trudeau. I am serious. Justin, please open your borders to us. We will bring our children and live under bridges while we wait to file our papers. We need to bang on this man’s door. Are you really okay with families being arrested in the middle of the night. Are you really okay with the disappearing families whose only crime is that they came to this thing you call a country. There is no excuse for so much as his flat feet. I want to see more black and whites. I have seen the color of his hair, it’s invaded my dreams. I see corpulence. I see fear. I see a man detached. An empty man. A lonely man. Even his family finds him toxic. Where is his wife. Where is his daughter. Oh, the stage again. And again. And again. Smile and wave.