Between colours and reflection

20120624-224913.jpg I love this picture, both the colours and the reflection. And the silence. I took this picture in a large city, and there was nobody there, just the reflection. Someone was just here.
As we live on the countryside, and our sound “issues” are listening to the little lamb go from tiny ba ba ba as they call for their mothers, to BAAAH in august, before no one ever hears from them again, I can assure you that sound, is something I think about all the time when I travel.
When was the last time you where somewhere absolutely quiet. NO sound? Thats is a good feeling.
I once had the same feeling, on the ground floor at Les Halles in Paris. Quiet, just me on the escalator going up. For no real reason, I turned my head slightly, and there was a man, 20 centimetres behind me, with his hand halfway down into my bag.
I told him to please leave me alone. And he flew down the escalator in a hurry. S’il vous plait helps in France;) Strange experience.

An occasion to remember

She has put on her best dress. White. Her finest shoes, white short socks. On her arm, a bracelet. Her mother arranges her hair. Her blonde curls… She feels special, beautiful. She looks like haute couture. It’s a special day.
I imagine she’d never been to see a photographer before. I can picture her going through Rue de Huchette, or perhaps Quai St. Michel after taking the metro. She holds her mothers’ hand quite tight. And her mother is careful in the busy streets.
In the studio, she takes her coat off. The city is not summer warm anymore.
I think that after walking a bit, she needs to run around, and move and play, without holding hands with anyone. But she is probably very polite, and a bit proud that she can take the photographers hand and say “Bonjour”. Words in a foreign language.
Maybe she found the leaf outside, on the street. It looks like a leaf from an oak tree. Maybe the photographer thinks it’s a good idea to leave the leaf right there, on the bench where she sits when he takes the picture.
She puts on her most lovely smile. She is happy.
Afterwards they went to buy a colourful and sweet “gateaux” or some “petit four”. Or perhaps ice cream. She’d eat like a little princess, and be very careful not to ruin her lovely dress.
They’d have a good time together, my mother, and her mother in wonderful Paris, 1936.