A Perfect Stranger

I adore silent conversations, because so much is expressed in the way we look at each other, so many secrets remain secrets, so many feelings flow gently without interfering with our emotions and an ambience of a moment is created by our hearts beating.

Wordless time can be richer in thoughts than a stream of spoken sounds.

While walking by a fence of the Botanic Garden, in Cambridge, a perfect stranger passed by and without looking at me, took his hat off.

There were no other people around and a Perfect Stranger was moving on, as if nothing happened.

Maybe his gesture had nothing to do with me?

Maybe he takes his hat off as a matter of principle, while passing another human being?

Maybe he actually wasn’t a Perfect Stranger, but a friend I played with in a kindergarten all those years ago?

Maybe temporarily he was a Perfect Stranger, but it was our common destiny to become close in some distant future?

Maybe he will save my life?

Maybe I will save his?

Maybe he thought the same; maybe the Perfect Stranger greeted me as a fellow Perfect Stranger?


No time to hide

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An American photographer, Irving Penn, once said that what people hide behind their masks during a photographic session is usually more interesting than they themselves believe. So Irving Penn worked with his models slowly and kindly, patiently coaxing out their inner qualities and complexities and creating amazing portraits in the process. 

But I do not have the same luxury of time, so I rush my models to open up as soon as I look at them through my lens.