In my early twenties I went on a summer day excursion of photographing homeless people with a few friends. This was in the early 1980's. I approached each one, asked permission and if it was granted I snapped their photo. I then offered each one a crisp $10 bill if they would tell me their story in 5 minutes or less. After only 4 homeless people I could go on no further as I was too overwhelmed by their tragic stories. Not one of them wanted to be on the street. God bless and help them all. It is a day I will never forget.
A year later the same group did an outing in a cemetary. Black & White film only. We were nervous exploring the theme of death and did silly poses beside, on or under some monuments and photographed. I will tell you that photographing the homeless was a very sad day, but photographing in the cemetary had the most deeply disturbing after-effect on me. I really felt that I had meddled with something; some force that should never be meddled with. After looking through my developed photos I was a nervous wreck and the next weekend i returned to that cemetary, went to each stone and monument I had photographed, knelt and apologised to their spirits and begged forgiveness. I am serious, I actually wept while I apologised. Then I destroyed the photos and negatives.
Sorry this post was so heavy but that is what happened and how I felt about it.