‘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.
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.
‘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.
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.’
