One night in Paris, I erased all my photographs of the day. I have confessed the reasons of the mortifying deed in an earlier post and do not wish to revisit this traumatic episode of my pathetic life. What bothered me the most was the promise I had made to impromptu street models to mail them prints of the now non-existing photographs. I decided to walk through Paris, find them, apologize and if possible have another shot. Needles in a haystack, I agree, but something I had to attempt to ease my troubled conscience. My first order of business would be to find a young virtuoso rollerblader called Kader and his girlfriend. I had immortalized them (right!) kissing on top of some metro stairs.
I put on my high heels, my 10 pound photo equipment backpack, and proceeded to go to the Trocadero close to the Eiffel Tower where I had heard Rollerbladers sometimes congregated.
Arriving at the tower, I felt surrounded by the popo on bicycle. No doubt the Tower was well-protected considering the great attention paid by the cops to their surroundings as evidenced by the above photograph. A tea party, I tell ya.
The giant edifice was still well in place since the last time but no sign of my little rollerblader.
Forget cops on bicycles! These were much improved models of security. I asked them if they had seen my little friend, and also if I could take their portrait with their BIG guns (I emphasized BIG as if I were truly impressed.) I must have hit the right cord since they happily posed for me.
Under the tower, no sign of Kader BUT nevermind Kader, there was an Italian acrobat and his young son fooling around in the most breathtaking way (by breathtaking I mean scary, irresponsible, and totally awesome for me.) I then continued my quest towards the Champs de Mars.
I like to catch people doing every day stuff such as these grand-parents feeding the pigeons with the little one. At least, I like to imagine they are normal folks getting along with their routine, but frankly, for all I know, they very well could have been highly subversive elements poisoning the poor birds. But hopefully not.
I think I must have waited close to half an hour hoping the precious little girl would jump in the puddle. I know she wanted to. It is a sad thing when good manners take over innocent malfeasance. I’m sure it’s great for the parents, but for me as a photographer, not so much. She never took the plunge.
A little further, a small girl on a wooden horse. By now, you realize I had momentarily abandoned my search for Kader.
Still at the Champs de Mars, I managed to capture this older couple contemplating two young things making out on the grass. Have I mentioned how much I LOVE Paris?
I had almost reached l’Ecole Militaire when I turned around in time to catch this happy mom and daughter.
In front of Ecole Militaire, I just had to stop this family. I thought the mom seemed so traditional with the baby on her back compared to the modern looks of her son and daughter. I also loved the Che Guevara tote hanging from the stroller.
With all that, I had arrived to destination without finding Kader, and truthfully, my feet in four inch heels were literally killing me. Why was I wearing four inch heels? I can’t answer that. I’m an idiot that’s why. I took the metro to Palais Royal, my last resort!
And there, an absolute MIRACLE!!!
I could finally repair my wrongdoings.
As for Jair and Marcia de Souza from Sao Paolo, Brazil, the situation is slightly more complex… But I’m very willing to try. Alguem para uma caipirihnia?