oblivion

"I've seen them get to be this big," she heard the man standing at the towel stand say, as he held his hand about two feet apart.

"Yes," the other man said. "I have seen one in this area. I believe it may live near here."

She sat on the wall and looked at the two men, at the two foot iguana. Are they talking about you? she thought in the general direction of the iguana. Surely they see the giant lizard so near their feet. But so often one doesn't notice until the think is right there, the iguana gnawing on toes, the mud puddle hiding in the grass. These things creep.

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.

this photograph was taken from you - 3

I would not go up those stairs. I took one look. At the stairs. At you. I said, "No way." It wasn't because of you. It was because of the vertigo. But you were sitting on the steps. You were beautiful. And sad. And, I'm sure, a little annoyed that a stranger was taking a photograph from you. But I had to have it. Indeed, I took several photographs from you.

This is but one. There will be more to follow.

I know you saw me. You looked at me and turned away. Perhaps you thought I was merely taking photographs of the steps. The impossibility of the steps. But you also knew I was taking photographs from you.

Did you not say anything because we have a language barrier? We don't. I can read your emotions in any language. As you knew I would not go up those steps--as you felt my fear--I felt your sadness, your aloneness. I'm sure you were relieved when I turned and walked away.

You will probably never see this photograph that I have taken from you, but I hope you somehow know that you are not alone.