I was waiting for the part of your entry where you were going to talk about those whom you spoke to. I can't imagine staying in that sort of resort--where the atmosphere is simply America Lite!--for an extended period of time without speaking to those who live in the real Jamaica. You did it.
I have photographer friends who have done the same thing, myself included. On a whim this past spring, I took the T into Harvard Square. There, I found homeless people who others would simply ignore or walk past. We have all seen them. Many of us don't see them either, they are obscene things to be ignored by passers-by everyday. I found one, who had his sign and cup, and sat down next to him. I did this egardless of what thoughts and assumptions I would have made about a homeless person, and I listened to him. I learned more from that man than I have from any teacher in my life. He just started talking, about his life, how he ended up there on that curbstone, and what I should concentrate on in my life. Him and his friends that also live on the streets were talking too, and I didn't even speak a word. Their view on what life should really mean to someone somewhat shaped mine. I heard their views on everything from Harvard students to Bush. They weren't alcoholics. They weren't drug addicts. They were people. They told me happiness isn't such a hard thing to find. It isn't at all. After I had listened to them for a while, and the man and his friends had joked about my small digital camera that I was holding, I took a picture of them. I didn't care if it came out right or not, all I took was one photo. There are many street photographers who mananged to keep their photos (I do shoot film now, though) and they are simply beautiful. Portraits of fellow people in their own setting is something unmatched. In the end, I lost the photo due to the botched memory card that I was using (you have to love technology). There are many street photographers who mananged to keep their photos (I do shoot film now, though) and they are simply beautiful. Portraits of fellow people in their own setting is something unmatched. Losing the picture didn't matter really, you don't need material things to remember the faces and thoughts of other people. People like us, of course. If only some realized such a thing.
I'm glad you will keep in touch with those you met. I never got the man's name, and I haven't seen him or his small posse of friends since. I'm guessing they relocated.
About your European, love is such an odd thing, and comes in at the most random of times. Who knows, you could meet her again.
I know this is a really long comment, but I thought I might as well as match your long entry. It reminded me I need to go find someone to talk to again.
That story about the homeless people in Harvard Square is awesome. I have never done that, though I always wanted to. I wonder why I didn't... it would be such a simple thing to do, really. You just need to listen and be open-minded, and you can learn an enormous amount.
Love is a very strange thing. It seems to get in the way of everything, yet what could be more important?
I have photographer friends who have done the same thing, myself included. On a whim this past spring, I took the T into Harvard Square. There, I found homeless people who others would simply ignore or walk past. We have all seen them. Many of us don't see them either, they are obscene things to be ignored by passers-by everyday. I found one, who had his sign and cup, and sat down next to him. I did this egardless of what thoughts and assumptions I would have made about a homeless person, and I listened to him. I learned more from that man than I have from any teacher in my life. He just started talking, about his life, how he ended up there on that curbstone, and what I should concentrate on in my life. Him and his friends that also live on the streets were talking too, and I didn't even speak a word. Their view on what life should really mean to someone somewhat shaped mine. I heard their views on everything from Harvard students to Bush. They weren't alcoholics. They weren't drug addicts. They were people. They told me happiness isn't such a hard thing to find. It isn't at all. After I had listened to them for a while, and the man and his friends had joked about my small digital camera that I was holding, I took a picture of them. I didn't care if it came out right or not, all I took was one photo. There are many street photographers who mananged to keep their photos (I do shoot film now, though) and they are simply beautiful. Portraits of fellow people in their own setting is something unmatched. In the end, I lost the photo due to the botched memory card that I was using (you have to love technology). There are many street photographers who mananged to keep their photos (I do shoot film now, though) and they are simply beautiful. Portraits of fellow people in their own setting is something unmatched. Losing the picture didn't matter really, you don't need material things to remember the faces and thoughts of other people. People like us, of course. If only some realized such a thing.
I'm glad you will keep in touch with those you met. I never got the man's name, and I haven't seen him or his small posse of friends since. I'm guessing they relocated.
About your European, love is such an odd thing, and comes in at the most random of times. Who knows, you could meet her again.
I know this is a really long comment, but I thought I might as well as match your long entry. It reminded me I need to go find someone to talk to again.
Reply
Love is a very strange thing. It seems to get in the way of everything, yet what could be more important?
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment