Sylvie is restless, she walks the halls of the Mansion, she reads the letters she gets, she reads magazines her sisters send her, she seems to live in her own space, but she knows me and she knows Red and she is one of the few people at the Mansion who sees me more than she needs Red.

We have formed a kind of connection to one another, she has had three strokes in the past year or so and communicating is not simple for her. She knows my name now, and says “hello, Jon,” when she sees me and when I ask if I can take a photograph, she nods and says, “yes, thank you, Jon.” She does not care to pet Red or spend time with him.

She likes to be photograph, I think she wishes to be known. We don’t talk much. I am drawn to taking her portrait when I see her.

I meet her in the hallways, I have not yet been invited to her room downstairs.