Saturday, March 21, 2015
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Sunlight graces a store front at the right angle after days of cloud cover. I see shine. I see sparkle. I press shutter button. I see hand. Hand? Yes, a hand blocks the light between my camera lens and an old coffee roaster. I step back, look up and see Mr. Coffee Roaster Man. He takes away his hand. I bend down again into the sparkle and shine. The hand reappears. I step away once more. Everything repeats. My lens. His hand. My lens. His hand. He comes outside into the freeze. Why are you taking pictures he asks. It's a hobby I say. Do not put them on the internet he says. Not an ask, an order. He goes back to the roaster. I find a bench and sit. I feel the sunlight fuel fire inside me. I take up my camera and turn towards the roaster and the light reflecting on it. I bend down, look through the lens and press the shutter, seeking now something other than sparkle. Mr. Coffee Roaster Man readies. He puts a bucket in the window. It shines. Click. He puts a scooper in the window. It shines. Click. Then I stand straight and see him. He shines. Click.
He looks at the photo. This is not you he says and tosses my passport on the counter between us. Then who is it I ask, stunned by his conclusion. He takes back the passport. When I look at this picture I see a guy. When I look at you standing here I see a beautiful woman.