"Have you ever had that moment when the Muse visits?
Inspired by Donald Jean, I squatted and waited
Somewhere in the back alleys of Little India
For the right person or subject to come by
After watching many walk past, nary a soul could be seen when I got into position
Biting back frustration and turning it into humble amusement
My knees creaking, sweat bead on my forehead, gathering enough rivulets to stream down my neck
The camera and its lens wavered in my hand, growing heavier by the second
My sight through the viewfinder dancing like a whirling dervish under the hot sun
*I imagine if I had the cojones, I'd go back in the night and wait, for that stranger to walk under that streetlamp. But of course, I care too much for Nikki."
Chin, I think, says it all about this adventure:
"I think this cannot be said enough:
Ben you are an incredibly generous person.
Everyone (and I exaggerate not) I have met exclaims in shock and amazement when I first let them know of Nikki’s adventure.
The chorus of chatter recycle the same litany of phrases and questions, eyebrows going from low to raised high as one goes down the list:
What if it goes missing?
Or someone decides to keep the lens?
And declares it missing?
How do you know these people?
Do you *know *these people?
You’ve never met any face-to-face?!
Then the kicker comes, when informed that the lens was not bought by all of us, but contributed by a member of our group, from faraway Sydney, Australia.
Imagine the wailing of women, howls and shrieks accompanied by the beating of breasts.
Cries of disbelief – without financial ownership, who’s to say, chaos and anarchy will rule!
There are dark days when I lose grasp on my principles - to believe in the innate kindness of man (Rousseau/Kant)
Then the thought that the lens in my hand was entrusted to me by a collective of internet forumers, brings warmth to my heart
And the world feels righted on its axis once again."