A June afternoon

Today, after drinking tea and catching up with one of my favorite professors, I met you. I was glancing at my favorite photo in the gallery that evening, at first when looking at all the photos I had missed it. When I reentered that section, I was so surprised to have had missed this photo. I stared at the woman with the backpack. She was looking into the hole and there were two metal balls, one of them seemed transparent. They were connected to the circle, or hole by laser like strings. They were reaching towards the middle of the circle, or hole. They seemed, lost if that made sense, but they were connected, they belonged.

I had a glass of Pinot Grigio, and some cheese in my hand. Wearing my own back pack, I felt it becoming heavy and I felt someone glaring at me. It wasn’t you glaring at me it was your lens about to snap a shot of me. I looked to my left surprised and you were in the other section of the gallery a short wall separating us. I didn’t think you odd, I thought, “well I guess this is what happens in an art gallery, another artist trying to capture their own art.”

Shortly after, you walked into the section I was in, taking pictures of the female who had pourn my wine. I paid no attention to you two, turning to stare out the window. I watched the wind move the trees of that backyard, staring at the other buildings surrounding the little greenery of Brooklyn backyards. The wind grew stronger, and I noticed the glare of the photography on the window, which you later captured with me in. I liked the way it looked, but then turned to admire my favorite picture positioned high above my short stature. You then introduced yourself to me. We exchanged names so quickly, I couldn’t even recall your name minutes into our conversation. I often do not care to learn names, but it bothered me so I interrupted you more than twice asking your name.

We began discussing how we ended up there. It was interesting how you said I was meant to be there. I had got off the bus too early, many blocks before I was to transfer to another. I decided to walk, it was windy but I enjoyed the cold breeze hit my bare legs and frigid wind brush against my face. The wind blew my dress in many directions, reminding me of how free I was, how I loved walking freely. Eventually, I bumped into the lady you knew all of your life, the woman who was like an aunt to you. The woman a stranger to me, with her colleague, the photographer invited me in. I was a bit hesitant, but I entered the gala. I didn’t scan the room, I began observing each photo…

Our conversation went on to discuss things such as where we attended college, your new hobby of photography, and my love of reading. Eventually, the conversation ended. You went to talk to others and I left wondering where my feet would take me next.