1 Posted by - 09/03/2016 - ARTICLES, PORTRAITS

I see him in the morning when I open my blinds and at night when I shut them…

Every day I want to grab my camera and photograph him but he notices me on the first second I open the curtain, despite the distance. Today it’s raining so the open balcony tent gave me the perfect opportunity. He is there every day, during the morning and the evening. He has a son who looks exactly like him and who sometimes sits beside him in the chair next to his, as if waiting for his turn to replace him in that chair when he will no longer be around. He always looks puzzled and I am certain that his life story is cruel. I’m not sure if I want to learn it. It doesn’t really matter. I can read in his face all his problems, all his worries, all the signs of our times. He drinks coffee and smokes all the time. And he waits. I think he just waits for his days to be over. As if he is waiting at the bus stop and death is due to arrive shortly and he is anxious not to miss the bus. That is the exact feeling I get from him. Next time he looks at me I am going to say hello and smile at him. I hope he smiles back. I would regret it if one day he is not there and, me, having missed his smile forever… I need to know there is a glimpse of light in the dark, a seed of hope and resistance.



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