Walking back home on a street west of my neighborhood, I came upon the most curious creature on a cellphone, dramatically smoking a cigarette. She wore a boldly printed, belted shirtdress, some chunky pumps, and big black glasses. The pièce de résistance was the hair! What a great shot this would make with my plastic Diana, I thought! The whole scene was perfect... the blue skies and late afternoon sun shining down the street upon her, the scrolled iron work of the brownstone's gate she leaned on, huge puffs of smoke from the cigarette, oh my! Speaking a language which I decided might be Russian, I approached and asked if I could take a picture of her beautiful hair. Barely looking at me, she nodded slightly, and remained silent on the phone, apparently listening. "Could you take a drag on your cigarette?" I asked. She acted as if she'd not heard me, and eventually when she did, I snapped the picture.
And this is what I got. No cigarette. No sunshiny day. No background.
BLACK. What the freaky-deaky-ding-dong?? Call the cops.
I live in NYC, love all forms of art, old scary movies, PBS, and dark chocolate. I have an identical twin sister, chew the inside of my mouth, do not fear snakes, (but will burst into a Native American War Dance at the sight of a cockroach, complete with yodeling) love three-legged dogs and one-eyed cats, but have neither, and sing the 'Our Father' in funny renditions every night before bed.