Photograph #100

On June 30th, time 18:30 pm and day Wednesday, Joe Brown had finally rounded up the exact number of his printed souvenirs. Her blonde, luscious hair, all tied up in a braid and glowing against the sunset, left him with no choice. It was the last piece of the puzzle, and at last, he was determined to complete it.  

He saw her sitting on the promenade, overlooking the golden rays. Tired as he was, he did not notice her at first. A second look and he was immediately captivated. He stopped in his tracks, his cargo pants and middle-aged man sandals disguising him as a tourist, placed the camera over his right eye and clicked, a click that would determine either the most exquisite shot or the most disastrous. 

Success. The photograph turned out perfect. Just as he expected, the fairy-like stranger, whose golden hair blended with the sun rays behind her, was captured harmoniously on his precious device. Joe took a long, lingering look at his achieving work. The back of the stranger was still turned to the sun, but Joe had all the time in the world. Besides, he learned to calculate how much time it takes for a stranger to leave or to arrive somewhere, how long one spends in the house, the grocery shop or even the nearby town bar. Evidently! Joe was no amateur photographer.

For all it matters, Joe did not become a photographer to earn money nor to gain fame. He did not care to be seen or heard. He saw people selling their work on the street or online, but see, that was not Joe. No, Joe was a photographer because he wanted to capture what happiness feels like through unsuspecting strangers. To feel their feelings, even for a fraction of time. Just yesterday, he had captured yet another unsuspecting stranger. He was listening to music, headphones in, world out, and skating up and down the long side of the road. One click and done. The photograph went on the wall the same day. 

At exactly 18:40 pm, the fairy stood up from the promenade, stole one final look from the beautiful view and headed south. Just behind her followed Joe. Okay, technically, he did not have to follow her. The photograph was taken already, and all that remained was placing it next to the other 99 pieces of art. But this one was different. Joe deserved to have a little more time with this one. 

Not more than 10 minutes later, Joe decided to buy the stranger an ice cream. He went with a strawberry popsicle, the kind that Ava used to have. He figured this was the right choice, given the similarities between them. The temperature had cooled down, a relief that by the time he reached the stranger, the ice-cream would at least stay intact. 

They walked for a few more minutes, and voila, they were both standing in front of the little fairy’s house, one in front of the door, the other one keeping his distance. Three footsteps ahead, and he dared to tap her shoulder. The kind stranger was startled, her almond eyes almost perplexed at the sight of a photographer she didn't know. 

“Hello Ava..sorry I didn’t mean to say that! Hello there. Would you like a strawberry popsicle?”

The look of surprise formed in the stranger’s face. Her hand started ringing the doorbell, and Joe realized this was not her home.

“Oh no, please don’t be scared. I am just a professional photographer, and you really remind me of someone. Here, I took this picture of you while you were looking at the sunset. Do you like it?”

The Ava lookalike was astounded. Her eyes did all the talking, widened and mortified in view of the captured scene on the square screen. She did not stop ringing the doorbell, one hand to the bell and the other tapping the door. 

“I am not here to hurt you honey.”

And with that, the little stranger started screaming. 

In a time lapse of what felt like 19:10 pm or a sped up horror scene, Joe finally took the hint and made his way home, the ice cream melting on his left, camera free hand.

Home at last, he did not carefully place the camera on his top level shelf. He did not even rush to the printing room to print his long awaited photo. Instead, he threw the camera with impressive force on the blanket covered sofa, the device falling in between cushions and breadcrumbs. Why? Why was he not happy about finally finding the last puzzle piece? 

Deep down, he visualized today’s events differently. He thought the Ava look-alike would be glad to meet him, or at least spend some time with him. After showing her the photograph, they would walk in town together, finding other captivating places and picturesque locations. He would then show Ava his proudest piece of work, and she would admire it, observing all subjects of his project, from the beautiful surfers, to the women in the supermarket aisles to the drinking regulars across the bar. Upon completion, Joe would finally be content, complete and proud. He would hug his little daughter, and encapture that moment forever.

In the present, Joe attempted to admire his almost completed puzzle on the wall behind his bed. His eyes scanned the printed photographs from the moments he captured. Cheerful people, peaceful instants and fortunate clicks. Does the camera capture the moment or does it portray a miniature glimpse of the truth? 

With tearful eyes, Joe looked at the 100th photograph on the screen. Ava rushed through his mind, clicks and clicks of tiny instances in one’s natural camera of life. And what did life give Joe? An old, useless camera, just like the one he threw on his black-covered sofa. 

As for now, all that Joe could do was relive his Ava through square pieces of printed portraits, to remember his daughter through a lens of non-existence.