by AVA-JOYE BURNETT
Observer staff

MANCHESTER, N.H. — As I arrive at Saint Anselm College on Saturday night for the presidential debates, my mind flickers with ideas of the visuals that I need to capture.

A crowd of supporters and protesters hold signs across the street from the school. And let’s not forget the traffic — people holding signs, lines of news trucks and police officers. All these visual elements tell a story and remind me of how big this event is going to be.

A young woman locates my name on a long list of journalists, and then hands me my credentials. Armed with a lanyard around my neck that identifies me as press, and my camera, I walk into a gym turned into a mega-newsroom for more than 400 journalists.

I quickly learn that no one is camera shy; in fact, no one cares if I have the camera in his or her face.

Close-ups, long shots, walking shots, fingers typing, people editing, head-phones on, wireless mics in back pockets and not a bit of silence. I capture it all with my camera. I am bold because I am armed with a weapon. A weapon that can tell a story, a weapon that will draw attention, one that demands respect and most important, one that encourages curious bystanders to become inquisitive.

And this is only the first night, and still four more to go.

There is a story everywhere in the city of Manchester. If I leave my camera behind, I risk missing the story of a 14-year-old boy who is actively working on John McCain’s campaign or the story of young voters getting booed after they interrupt a candidate’s town hall meeting. I will miss stories of people actively participating in the nation’s first primary in New Hampshire.

I am painting a picture with the lenses of my camera. And all of these pictures will complete a story that will take viewers from long distances closer to this time and place even years from now.