Jacques of Endless New York would get right up and personal and ask people if he could take a picture. He got pictures that really piss me off because they are so beautiful and personal and intimate and a world where you could step in and go somewhere private and catch your breath.
photo: Jacques Baudrier
My worlds where I could step in and go somewhere private are devoid of people. They are filled with the empty nooks and crannies I wandered in and out of in deep night by myself, wondering about life, liberty and what that office at 2 a.m. was really like.
When it came to taking pictures of people, unless I knew them, knew them very well...
...like Dana or Polly the cat...
...I skulked around and snapped away like I was a spy out of a Peter Sellers movie. Obviously bad at being sneaky but thinking I was getting away with something.
I'd take pictures from far away...
... or up close on their feet...
...or at their backs...
and always of their anonymity.
I hated Jacques. I hated his camera. I wanted his pictures.
No, not really. I adore him. But jealousy makes us ugly human beings, especially jealousy that really is about Jacques doing something I was quite capable of doing. Asking.
Ask, Jacques said. Ask. He even sent an article defending his case. By Eric Kim. Who said... Ask.
So. On a miserable winter day, rushing by, I stopped and looked at a living painting.
Oh, just walk by, it doesn't matter, said my cold feet.
No. Ask, said my eyes.
Change is a horrible feeling and risks are worse than getting car sick.
But not doing anything is worst of all.
The tailor smiled, nodded and then went back to work.
Endless New York
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