Larry Burrows
is hard to think of Larry Burrows as a photographer from another age: he is one of those legends who belongs in the present as well as in the past. Yet he died 48 years ago. He had left school at 16; worked his way up from via the darkrooms of Keystone and ; become a staff photographer in 1961 (still only 35 years old, remember); worked in Lebanon, Iraq, the Congo and Cyprus as well as Vietnam; and was killed when the helicopter in which he was travelling was shot down in Laos, over the Ho Chi Minh trail, in 1971. He was 44: a year older than my father, and a quarter of a century younger than I am now. Yet I think of him as being my age, the age we are in dreams, every age and no age. Like all the greatest legends, he is timeless.
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