this is perhaps one of my favorite photos I have ever taken. I was watching the women in the previous two photos, whom work harder than anyone I have ever witnessed. Cops approached these woman who had heaved large sacks of flowers and food for an unknown amount of miles to try an sell them. It truly amazed me, the resilience each of them encompassed. Then a group of cops came up and started screaming at the woman, scaring their children away. The woman in this picture with the pink skirt was hit and punched multiple times and I had to watch. The female cop started taking her belongings and then I decided to capture it. I looked around my shoulders, my heart beating faster and faster by the moments that stretched to eternity. Time became dough and was crumbling under so much pressure.
I snapped the picture. The moment of injustice. In that moment, that piece of eternity, I was aware of everything. My unsteady breathing, how the button of the camera felt underneath my trembling fingertips, what was at stake. Right as I lowered the lense that would transport the truth, the police officer looked me right in the eye, my heart sank and I quickly began running down the streets crowded with locals looking at me with a mixture of fear and awe. I turned around and saw her screaming at me in Spanish I couldn’t comprehend as she another officer began running after me. I had never run so fast in my life. My bones ached as I pushed them farther and farther. I felt alive. Thinking back, I wasn’t really worried about getting in trouble, or what they would do on those hectic streets of Cusco that tourists don’t visit. I wanted to protect the moment, the moment that I cannot convey with words. The one that was snapped on my lense and had to be shared. The truth. And so I ran for the truth, I ran for the woman who was hit and her possessions were stolen. I ran for the injustices that took place on the streets. I have never been a fast runner, I was always the last kid to finish in TRACK. So I used the streets framework which was an endless maze to my advantage. I slipped through random houses, ran across narrow alleyways, I listened to the sound of my beating heart that was pounding in my ears and the rubble of destroyed streets crumbling underneath my frightened feet. Finally, I found a haven between an empty alley that led to a small shop. I crumbled on the ground, focusing on my breath. I eagerly looked at the moment on my camera, and I was proud of myself. I held camera, that little moment to my heart. It wasn’t the most profound image, the lighting wasn’t perfect and I didn’t really know how to use a camera too well, but it was enough, it captured the essence of injustice.
0 Comments
It was raining when I left. It kind of felt good, like the sky was crying with me. I looked out my balcony, standing atop it, smoking a cigarette and feeling tears run down my cheeks live rivers. I couldn't move, instead just gazed in wonder across the beautiful city that had embedded itself into my soul.
I closed the door after me, knowing I would never step on that small balcony again. So I cried some more for my sad self and finished folding my clothes neatly into rectangle suitcases. I know that home is relative, and I thought I would never found it, but hell I thought it was here. I found home, my place in the world. The peacefulness of waking in the morning to sun kissed mountains. Carrying our my day in self reliance, picking up some crafts for the kids and humming to songs on the shaking bus. I always picked up fruit on my way to work, a taste so sweet it melted in my mouth. I was comfortable, in my final week. I felt free from the shackles of society and routine. And as I stepped into that taxi, waving my teary eyed host family goodbye, I felt the locks around my wrists starting to tighten. It was hardest to leave the children. I kept looking at the clock in anticipation on my last day, wishing it would turn around, hating that time wasn't on my side and it wouldn't just pause. I needed another moment.. another laugh from them another hug another kiss another memory. But clocks don't stop no matter how hard you scream for them to, and I know that the hug Tatiana is giving me now, how her laugh sounds in my ear, the fact she doesn't understand I won't be back, it will all be a memory. Slipping away like sand in a time glass through time. The harder you struggle to hold on, the easier it slips from you. As I stepped onto the plane, I felt like my throat was going to explode. I looked around at fellow passengers, quietly humming to themselves or tapping on screens. I wanted to scream at them with such anger and passion my throat would surely bleed raw. How could they be so content leaving? We had to get off, we couldn't leave. We needed to yell at the captain. The children were waiting for me. How could I leave them? Those words circulated my mind for 8 hours. I didn't bother watching the film, instead, I put a blanket around my head and stargazed out my window. It was rather a great little set up, actually. I looked at the stars and remembered my dear friend Salvador telling me how they were ancient souls of the sky. His grandfather had said that they shine down to remind you everything is okay, And so, through the dark blanket of the sky, I found the little holes of light and I went gently into that good night. |
ArchivesCategories |