From the day
Perspective: The Street Photographer · Tactile
The damp April mist clings to my wool coat as I weave through the crowd, my fingers stinging from the bite of cold metal on my camera. A young boy on the corner is obsessed with a set of notched redwood Lincoln Logs, his sticky palms fumbling with the rough-hewn timber while a nearby gramophone wheezes out the melancholic flute melody of "Poor Butterfly." I adjust my focus on a gentleman in a stiff celluloid collar who side-steps a mud puddle with a frantic jerk, as if he’s trying to avoid catching the cooties from the common street grime. The air smells of wet brick and cheap tobacco, a stark contrast to the sharp, industrial scent of the new electric clocks ticking behind the shop windows.