…picture this…

Puellaro a small town with steep narrow streets, a house, it’s door to enter raised off street level. The door open, the tiny front room dimly lit. In it, a barbers shop, a metal and leather barbers chair, a large mirror and all the paraphernalia. In the corner enough instruments for a small band. Under the dim light that enters through the hazed window a stout man with high trousers and braces sits with a boy, both have trumpets in their hands and are reading music. It is a snapshot of a moment in time in this town I have just arrived at. It is just how it is.

You capture a scene and you know it’d make a fantastic photo but all you have with you are your eyes and then a memory and then if you succeed a vision passed on to someone else through words.