soar

He stood on the rail as he had many times before. He looked out over the churning water. He crossed himself. He looked at the surf and waited for the perfect moment. He crossed himself again, just for good measure. He knew the time was almost right. As he had know many times before. He took a deep breath, and stepped to the edge. The wave crashed against the rocks and he spread his arms and leaped.

She stood by the curb with her camera in hand. She knew he was about to leap. She had just given him 150 pesos for his trouble, thank you very much. "I can't believe I just gave this guy twelve bucks to die," she thought.

But she knew, as well as he did, that he was not going to die. He had done this countless times before and still had survived. Maybe he had come close. That's why he crossed himself. Just in case.

As he leaped, she took shot after shot. She was determined to get her 150 pesos worth.

And at the same time that he was free falling into the shallow abyss, she was insanely jealous. To have that abandon is something she longed for.

But she would have to content herself with the photographer's curse. To never be in the action, but always behind the camera, shooting the action. Never to soar, always with feet planted firmly on the ground.

She would not trade it for the world.