The Camera

I woke up Tuesday morning much too early, much too nervous about things I couldn't control.

I didn't know what else to do with myself so I took my camera out, like I used to, in a different city, in a different life.

A few blocks from my house, I stopped to photograph some flowers outside a church. A man outside the church told me that the flowers had died inside but come back once they were brought outside. I smiled. He offered to let me photograph inside the church but I wanted to keep moving so I declined.

A block later, I was kneeling outside a shuttered cafe trying to capture the street scene reflected in the stainless steel exterior, and a man came out of the building next door and stopped to talk to me. "You're shooting reflections?" he asked. "I do that all the time," he said. "You should come around the corner and see my display of shoes." I waited until he left, took a few more shots and then ventured over to see what he was talking about. Outside another cafe, just a few doors away, he had hung sneakers from the wall, filled them with dirt and planted flowers. I wasn't sure if I could capture this in photos but I tried. He came out again and offered to buy me a coffee in the cafe next door, and I hesitated, but then said yes. He took me inside and by the way he spoke to the barista, with no exchange of money, I gathered that he owned the cafe. I ordered my coffee and he wished me well and left.

Then I was back on my way.

I love Brooklyn, I thought.

Another block or so later, I stopped to photograph yet another flower, and set my coffee on a ledge that was too small, and the coffee fell to the sidewalk. Half of it spilled. Oh well, I thought, it was free anyway, and I shot pictures of the coffee running along the sidewalk.

I used to do this all the time, just me and my camera.