In 2006 I attended the International AIDS Conference in Toronto, Canada. I remember walking through the Global Village and seeing an exhibition of photographs and artwork created by a group of Thai children infected with HIV. I remember three photographs in particular that were seared into my memory, consciousness, and action.

The first photograph was of a wooden table. The caption read, "my father's table." The second picture was of a clock. The caption read, "my father's clock." The third picture was of a refrigerator. The caption read, "my father's refrigerator." At the bottom of these photographs I found a simple statement, "missing my dad."

I stood in front of these photographs stunned. It took no effort to understand the full meaning of these images and words.The essence of this child was captured in art like the aroma of a potion captured in a glass bottle. Seeing those images released the emotion and an ongoing narrative of an individual profoundly affected by HIV and AIDS.

In those precious moments, I understood more about HIV and AIDS than I did in four full days of plenary sessions, satellite meetings, skill building workshops, seminars, and symposiums. There is power in art and narrative. Participants in this International AIDS Conference may be overwhelmed with statistics, bar graphs, and powerpoint presentations that numb our minds with numbers and paralyze our brains with complexity. To resist compassion fatigue, I encourage you to take a moment to listen to the voices of individuals sharing their stories and their vast wisdom in art.

Amidst the human congestion of 25,000 participants within an atmosphere of raw energy, blasting music, and a thousand activities hoping to steal a second of your attention, I encourage you to

pause.

Interact with art and the people that created it. Hopefully, like me, you'll learn something new.