A year ago I was sitting in a coffee shop in Southern France, privileged to participate in a writing exercise with two writer friends. One of us would pick a person passing by then the three of us would invent a story based upon what we saw, felt or imagined – a lot of fun!
Thanks to them, and another group called “With Flying Colors” where once a week a color or combination thereof is picked and the whole next week we look for pictures to take of that color – opening our eyes and making us more aware of that particular color, I have not only looked at things, but actually “seen” them.
Thanks to my accident (yes I did say “thanks”) I have had to purchase a bus pass so am also out in the public more and today’s return reminded me of both subjects: writing and photography – the color this week is red.
In Southern France I took a photo of an elderly woman sitting outside the coffee shop and although I have never written a story about her, she continues to intrigue me: she looks content with her world, happy to just be sitting in the sun outside.
Earlier this week, whilst having lunch in my “stamm” restaurant (there is truly no translation for that one other than you would say this about the chair in the library that you always use, the stool in the bar upon which you always sit, the table in a restaurant that is “your” table), I noticed in the middle of the room one table with four grandparent-type people and one teenager. One supposes that he was invited by one or the other of the grandparents, but throughout the entire meal I never saw him remove his head phones, nor observed any interaction with the four adults other than when he left – presumably to return to the Junior High in the neighborhood – when he did say goodbye.
I didn’t have my camera on the return bus – much to my regret – as a young man got off at one of the stops. So I will have to settle for a description: he had a small cross earring in his right ear, a black ski bonnet with a very predominant “DEATH” patch across the front, a t-shirt on top of which a black crop-top jacket, dark jeans and red shoes!
Ah the world is an interesting place – the stories to be told – the things to be observed.