I went downtown to shoot the streets. I did my typical, mathematical routine but this time I saw a lot of nice pictures I could have taken. A black woman in front of a liquor store in the grasp of a heartfelt gaze with sun reflecting off a car window causing an orb of light to emphasize her public entrancement. I let moments like these go because I had no desire, and they had no meaning. It was sunny and busy and a nice day downtown, but it was not for me.
I went home towards the ocean and I went to the beach where you could see the rain pouring out at sea, moving inland. I stood beside a lost shopping cart as the sand gasped round my feet and the sky went dark and I stared at the water as the rain came to me. It rained hard and I took a picture, and it had meaning to me. I stared at the ocean, it was angry but calm and this meant something to me. Had I not been carrying an expensive camera I would have thrown my shirt off and ran in as far as I could to meet the ocean with a scream, the kind that sums up weeks of words unspoken, and then I would have had a strong laugh with the water and the birds I couldn’t see because they were hiding. Real life could have happened, but I had my camera with me.
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You could write a book and I would read it again and again. Do you have any poems that my sister can turn into lyrics for a song? I’ll ask you again at lunch.