From the day
Perspective: The Street Photographer · Tactile
The damp wool of a passing pedestrian’s overcoat brushes my knuckles as I adjust my lens, the air thick with the metallic scent of a Duesenberg idling nearby, its New Hydraulic Brakes hissing with a sharp, modern bite. My fingers ache from the chill, but I pause to admire a shop window where a boy clutches a new box of Lincoln Logs, his small hands feeling the rough-hewn pine of the notched miniature timbers. Faint, crackling strains of "Till We Meet Again" drift from a Superheterodyne Radio Receiver inside the apothecary, a ghostly melody meant to ease the dread of many a boy lost in a mud-caked no man's land. I tuck my camera under my arm, ignoring the chatter about some cipher-spinning Enigma machine, and focus instead on the grit of the sidewalk and the defiant tilt of a suffragette’s velvet hat.