Alexandra Kerry

A journalist is supposed to present an unbiased portrait of an event, a view devoid of intimate emotions. This is impossible, of course. The framing of an image, by its very composition, represents a choice. The photographer chooses what to show and what to exclude.

To every little girl, her father is a hero. My father actually is one.

To every little girl her father is a hero.

I think the press gets lazy once a certain kind of image is out there. It just adheres, rather than the press trying to break that down.

I didn't grow up in public life. I lived with my mother in Boston, not in Washington, DC, so I was somewhat sheltered from that.

I think my dad would make an incredible president, and it would be great if he'd run again. But personally, for our family, part of me is glad that he didn't. We lost our mother recently, and we need to focus on ourselves.

I got involved in Gateway National Park and just became fascinated with gardens.

It's taken some getting used to, that my father actually is a hero.

In 2004, I joined my father, John Kerry, on the trail in his bid for the United States presidency.

My relationship with the journalists who covered the campaign was complicated. I often hid from the critical eye of their cameras and their omnipresent digital recorders, wary of the critique implicit in every captured moment. But I also grew to respect and understand their passion for their work, their love for the journey we were sharing.

Words have great cumulative power, but in the 21st century, a single image is much stronger. An image suggests the unvarnished truth. That is its power and its fiction.