The book confirms how little we really know about HC-B's work; for none of these images reveals its connection to any practice of photography (journalism, publicity, book-illustration, and so on) which could have produced it. The form allows HC-B to present his photography as if it was purely an aesthetic, the work of a man who got up one morning, took his Leica out into the streets of the city, and photographed what his eye told him was interesting. It is both fascinating and deeply misleading; but then HC-B never made any claims to be telling the truth.