My few weeks in Puerto Rico were spent almost entirely in Viejo San Juan. Being a city girl, I was thoroughly in my element, captivated by this fortressed eight square blocks of decaying to newly renovated buildings, cobblestone streets, lyrical Spanish spoken all around me, wonderful foods and lovely people. My friends were the ultimate in hosts and made sure I saw more of the Island than I would have on my own. We often walked around through the moist, thick night air.

On my last morning I wanted to photograph a huge fountain I'd only just seen the night before. As I walked toward it, I could see towering plumes of water buffeted by a strong wind and back-lit in the sunlight and so took my time, photographing along the way. When I reached the fountain, I took a light meter reading, wanting to capture the lovely sculpture with all the joy and nuance it evoked for me. I had to turn away to set the fstop because a gust of wind was sending too much water my way. Turning back, I was stopped in my tracks. The fountain's water was slowly ebbing and dying down until there were no more plumes surrounding the leaping dolphins. I began to laugh, deciding then and there that the spirits in Viejo San Juan were giving me a sign that I was not yet done with photographing her splendor and an invitation to return.

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