One day I asked the Lord, is there a job that pays people to photowalk? The Lord replied with a Google Street View car streaking past behind me.
That was two weeks ago in CamSur. The land of gata and labuyo. Where these two elements come together, that is heaven.
Today I’m back in hell. How much does a man’s feet weigh? Cause I have been dragging mine to work today.
Fourteen days in ‘heaven’ is a very short time. Made me treat every minute of the brief stay as a special occasion. Every sunshiny day — when sunshiny is with difficulty — a spur for a walk. Or a photowalk.
I walk to bear creativity. I photowalk to capture creativity. Ok at least I’m trying. For all its worth, I will walk till I can’t walk no more.
Emerson said “He is the richest man who pays the largest debt to his shoemaker.”
I said that too.
The trouble with photowalking is you can get embroiled in other people’s lives. My most recent case is with two women. One, a Street Photography fan. The other, Street Photography furious.
The fan stalked me till FB. Sought my opinion as to ‘fusing Street Photography with her prenup.’
The furious, simply enraged. Bent on taking down one of my SP shot. I did not violate anything but I respected her susceptibility.
The fan, bold as brass. The furious, limited.
The fan — a city mouse — we made some good exchange afterwards.
The furious — a country mouse — self-destructed, so to speak. Maybe one day we’ll cross path and she’ll take a swing at me. I wouldn’t blame her for that.
Because you see, not a lot of folks can grasp the art of street/public photography. And that is good. Otherwise, the genre might end up as a masscult as the AlDub crap. Terribly popular.
Street photography is for madmen; to have and to behold.
At times, my overly suspicious self thinks people thinks I’ve lost my coconut. Truth is, I found lots of it on the street.
And they’re more than my head can hold.