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‘Can I take your picture?’
He had been thinking, recently, to try to be a better person. To approach and engage, rather than sneak and snatch at his shots. This was Proper Etiquette, and at heart he was an old school gent.
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Well today it was time and here was a rare opportunity, not only for the Pipes Man: with a small nod, the girl moved square to him, fluffed her hair, and pulled back her gums in a strange static grin.
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‘Erm. Try to relax a bit?’ he suggested. ‘You know, like I’m not there.’
She clicked her tongue impatiently and fixed a dead-eyed stare that pierced through him. ‘What, like this?’
They say tension is required for a successful portrait.
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This is gonna be sick he thought, pushing a measured run of air through the pipes. A sneeze—WAAAAHEEE—followed by a lazy slap of the shutter and a sardonic smile from the girl.
One should leave one’s subject feeling valued, an equal participant in the creative process. He wound a small crank under his jacket, squeezed out a spotty carbon print and offered it to her.
‘Nah that’s shit, mate.’
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