my man from germany
I met a man from Germany who had come here to photograph birds, trash and doors. He spoke perfect English and me, an English girl, well he loved me. I showed him around and took him to all of the most aesthetically pleasing places I knew. He wasn't interested in the places though. He simply wanted to photograph everyday life and candid moments. The langweilige wunder, and me. He shot and he shot and he shot. Me holding an ice-cream. Me on the sidewalk. Me admiring shop window displays. Me in the bath. Me playing my piano. One day, when he'd gone out photographing on his own, I was home alone. I took to exploring his albums one by one. He had so many, of course. He knew how to capture so much in one frame. I looked at dozens of strangers that afternoon and felt an overwhelming sense of intimacy with them, whilst not knowing a single thing about them, their name, their occupation... anything. It was pure magic. Then tucked away was a final album I may have miss
