Textiles

A keynote speech. An industry dinner. The who’s who of the what’s what spelled out in hand-scripted placards, inches from gilded dinnerware. A tuxedoed pianist, tails draping, accompanied by the baritone laughter of confidence and accomplishment. Silver saucers deliver crystal flutes into manicured hands. Bubbles take their last breath 54 glittering stories in the sky.

What a way to go.

I was new then. I had yet to own my space. Or my place in it. I hid on the edges, earnestly adjusting settings. Pretending to be immersed in the relentless pursuit of the perfectly captured dinner roll. Its juxtaposition against a monogrammed pat of butter. I was watching without watching. The whistling night watchman.

A lens, a flash and a gentle demeanor, the thread with which I weave my way through lives of strangers. An understanding smile and a quiet movement, an unspoken permission granted. Moments unique to perspective and understanding, captured.