Look straight, don't turn back
My friend the ex-corporate-guy-now-converted-into-photographer is really good at his new occupation. He dreamt once of becoming a photographer, of expressing right out of his gut what he had inside after life gave him a kick off straight into his heart. He is succeeding. And recovering. He is so good that I want a picture with him very soon, this guy has a lot inside.
Beyond all this free February love, let me explain his occupation. He takes pictures of pain. Not a very good way to relieve his, indeed. He does development porn, an irreverently ironic term that does not give credit to so many dozens of photographers around the world telling us what is beyond the Galerie Lafayette in Paris.
So my friend the photographer is as good as having one of his pictures shown in the huge publicity banners of the Parisian metro. It was almost like a dream. I took line 9, my daily commute...and when I got to "Bonne Nouvelle" (literally, Good News) metro stop there she was, one of his Vietnam pictures in all its splendor. I repeat, the pictures he takes are of sad subjects, leprosy in this case.
I saw it just quickly, for 3 or 4 sweet seconds.
Up to here the story flows nicely. Until this week, when the metro banner chef decided to remove my friends' picture and put this thing all over Paris:
Maybe too hard for commuters willing to look straight, just like endless, boring metro rails.
Beyond all this free February love, let me explain his occupation. He takes pictures of pain. Not a very good way to relieve his, indeed. He does development porn, an irreverently ironic term that does not give credit to so many dozens of photographers around the world telling us what is beyond the Galerie Lafayette in Paris.
So my friend the photographer is as good as having one of his pictures shown in the huge publicity banners of the Parisian metro. It was almost like a dream. I took line 9, my daily commute...and when I got to "Bonne Nouvelle" (literally, Good News) metro stop there she was, one of his Vietnam pictures in all its splendor. I repeat, the pictures he takes are of sad subjects, leprosy in this case.
I saw it just quickly, for 3 or 4 sweet seconds.
Up to here the story flows nicely. Until this week, when the metro banner chef decided to remove my friends' picture and put this thing all over Paris:
Maybe too hard for commuters willing to look straight, just like endless, boring metro rails.
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