There is no blood in this picture.

A baby girl is rinsed off. Brand-new and unadorned, her family forms a circle around her. Her body seems to glow.

I feel the awe and reverence that accompanies new life. An air of hope tucks itself into my lungs, as the baby girl provides an oasis from the desolation that Congo/Women’s surrounding images foster. Maybe a baptism? A similar custom?

I tuck her image back into my short-term memory, awaiting her photo’s explanatory caption as I survey neighboring images.

Moving toward the adjacent wall, I zero in on the correct caption. And gasp.

“The body of eight month old Sakura Lisi is washed for burial. She died of anemia brought on by malaria, a preventable yet common affliction in a region with almost no healthcare.”

The baby girl is dead. I had been holding my breath for her story, yet it is already over.