Lost in contemplation of his image in the pool, embraced by its undying love for its original, knowing that to move away is to kill it and its love. The narcissist is incapable of murder: he requires life, so that it can dote on him, swaddling his infant desires. An allegory of photography: Narcissus turns his back on the loving nymph Echo. The visual pursues its own pure image, and turns its back on the sounds that hang upon its every silent utterance.