Man on Wisconsin Avenue
TRHolte
The street’s like an ever-shifting hall-of-mirrors; it’s a reflection of us—but not quite us. It reveals us sometimes almost as we are, and sometimes very nearly as we’re not. The street draws us with Newtonian inevitability into contact with strangers.
Strangers who have voices that sound like a saxophone at night. Strangers who have eyes that have seen the world from angles we didn’t know existed. Strangers walking dogs and strangers carrying shopping bags and strangers with scars that make us uncomfortable and strangers who want to sell us crack and strangers who smell of lemons and strangers who offer us religious tracts and strangers who have stories so similar to ours that we must have come from the same zygote. They’re not us, but we could so easily have been them.
One of these strangers is me. One of them is you. We are not very much alike. We are more alike than it seems possible, considering we are strangers.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
