Post by Dylan Michael McCormick on Aug 6, 2012 22:09:19 GMT -5
Dylan sat down on a bench, stepping out of the way for a passing runner and set his camera bag down. Pulling his camera out and placing it beside him, he dug into his bag, looking for the lens he wanted. Between working two jobs and trying to also have a social life, while trying to make ends meet, Dylan was just glad to have an hour to himself. He had just that, an hour, and then he was expected at the photographer’s studio where he worked as an assistant to the photographer who owned the studio. The guy was a pretty famous photographer, doing ad campaigns for Burberry, Dior, Chanel, even Victoria’s Secret. The guy’s resumé went on and on. Dylan helped him with lighting, developing film, loading images onto the computers, basically whatever he could trying to learn every little thing the guy could teach him. As ideal as the job was as a learning experience, since Dylan was trying to build his own portfolio into the world of photography, he still didn’t make enough money to pay his rent. So Dylan spent his nights working as a bartender, making enough money you pay bills and live comfortably. One day, he knew, he’d make money as a photographer and he’d live a good life. This city would be more of a luxury to him than a hardship, but he knew this was where he had to be if he was going to get what he wanted. For now, he had one hour before he had to report back to the studio where his boss, Roman, was doing a studio shoot for Marie Clare. Some celebrity was being interviewed for the cover story, and Dylan’s job was just to show up and Assist Roman. The job had its perks. He saw a lot of famous people, sometimes he traveled with Roman. Plus he saw a lot of hot models on a daily basis. Got invited to a lot of parties full of models. Yup, had it perks for sure. But he mostly stayed focused, eye on the prize. Bettering his portfolio, using Roman for his networking. Get his name out there.
Dylan just wanted to get some pictures of some park stuff, that was his thing. People. He couldn’t get enough pictures of people. One picture of a person, one facial expression, could tell an entire story. What was that person thinking? Finding beauty in other people, in human nature, that was hard to do. Harder than taking a picture of some flowers, or of a landscape. Grass didn’t tell a story like a pair of eyes did. Dylan stood, scanning across the park through his camera lens, taking a few photos while adjusting the aperture. As he looked for someone interesting he came across a blonde some ways away. There, right there. A beautiful young blonde, sitting in the shade with a blanket and a basket, reading a book. Now there was something you didn’t ever see anymore. People reading a real book. With pages. And covers. And ink. None of that electronic reader stuff. Dylan focused in on her, moving slightly and adjusted his camera set up, changing the contrast so he could see the slight sunlight that was barely making its way through the branches above her, shining off her hair and making it golden, and he wondered what she was reading. He wondered, as a slight breeze blew through, moving strands of her hair around her face, if she read modern things, maybe that Fifty Shades of Grey book, or if she enjoyed the classics. And as he knelt there across the lawn, snapping photo after photo, he realized she looked incredibly familiar to him. He was trying to remember just where he had seen her before. Perhaps in the bar where he worked? A child screamed nearby, and she didn’t even move. Completely engrossed in her book. Though she did sigh once, taking a breath and looked around. Maybe she had just finished a chapter. As she looked up, not even noticing him, he suddenly remembered her. Ohh he definitely remembered. Remembered that hair, that face. Definitely remembered that no doubt rocking body she had. He’d met her at a party, she’d been totally drunk. He lowered his camera, remembering now, that he’d actually hooked up with her. And she probably had no memory of it, no memory of him. Maybe that was a good thing. It wasn’t always the most respectable thing to do to sleep with girls when they were so drunk they wouldn’t remember you at all. Not that he’d been totally sober but he had been sober enough for it to not exactly be something to be proud of. He’d liked her though. Hadn’t gotten her number, hadn’t seen her again. He’d wondered about her a lot at first, but it was a big city. After a while he’d just pushed it out of his mind, never seeing her again. So seeing her now was a shock, her hat flopping in the light breeze, this was like a second chance, sort of. Or at least he could go introduce himself for real, give himself some peace of mind for his guilty conscious about that night. He raised his camera again, looking at her through the lens and, as if she could sense someone looking, she looked up, looking right at him through the lens. Dylan lowered his camera, well she’d caught him. Now he sort of had to go over, so she didn’t think he was a creepy stalker or something. It would just be weird since she didn’t remember him, at least he didn’t think. Dylan approached her, smiling slightly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I hope you don’t mind me photographing you.” As he neared where she was sitting he shrugged, “I really am not one of those creepy stalker guys in the park. Unless you were thinking I was a charming young photographer with good taste, then yes, I am.” He offered a kind smile, hoping she was weirded out and held his hand out to her, “Dylan, by the way.” Well, she’d either remember him or she wouldn’t guess he’d find out.
Dylan just wanted to get some pictures of some park stuff, that was his thing. People. He couldn’t get enough pictures of people. One picture of a person, one facial expression, could tell an entire story. What was that person thinking? Finding beauty in other people, in human nature, that was hard to do. Harder than taking a picture of some flowers, or of a landscape. Grass didn’t tell a story like a pair of eyes did. Dylan stood, scanning across the park through his camera lens, taking a few photos while adjusting the aperture. As he looked for someone interesting he came across a blonde some ways away. There, right there. A beautiful young blonde, sitting in the shade with a blanket and a basket, reading a book. Now there was something you didn’t ever see anymore. People reading a real book. With pages. And covers. And ink. None of that electronic reader stuff. Dylan focused in on her, moving slightly and adjusted his camera set up, changing the contrast so he could see the slight sunlight that was barely making its way through the branches above her, shining off her hair and making it golden, and he wondered what she was reading. He wondered, as a slight breeze blew through, moving strands of her hair around her face, if she read modern things, maybe that Fifty Shades of Grey book, or if she enjoyed the classics. And as he knelt there across the lawn, snapping photo after photo, he realized she looked incredibly familiar to him. He was trying to remember just where he had seen her before. Perhaps in the bar where he worked? A child screamed nearby, and she didn’t even move. Completely engrossed in her book. Though she did sigh once, taking a breath and looked around. Maybe she had just finished a chapter. As she looked up, not even noticing him, he suddenly remembered her. Ohh he definitely remembered. Remembered that hair, that face. Definitely remembered that no doubt rocking body she had. He’d met her at a party, she’d been totally drunk. He lowered his camera, remembering now, that he’d actually hooked up with her. And she probably had no memory of it, no memory of him. Maybe that was a good thing. It wasn’t always the most respectable thing to do to sleep with girls when they were so drunk they wouldn’t remember you at all. Not that he’d been totally sober but he had been sober enough for it to not exactly be something to be proud of. He’d liked her though. Hadn’t gotten her number, hadn’t seen her again. He’d wondered about her a lot at first, but it was a big city. After a while he’d just pushed it out of his mind, never seeing her again. So seeing her now was a shock, her hat flopping in the light breeze, this was like a second chance, sort of. Or at least he could go introduce himself for real, give himself some peace of mind for his guilty conscious about that night. He raised his camera again, looking at her through the lens and, as if she could sense someone looking, she looked up, looking right at him through the lens. Dylan lowered his camera, well she’d caught him. Now he sort of had to go over, so she didn’t think he was a creepy stalker or something. It would just be weird since she didn’t remember him, at least he didn’t think. Dylan approached her, smiling slightly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I hope you don’t mind me photographing you.” As he neared where she was sitting he shrugged, “I really am not one of those creepy stalker guys in the park. Unless you were thinking I was a charming young photographer with good taste, then yes, I am.” He offered a kind smile, hoping she was weirded out and held his hand out to her, “Dylan, by the way.” Well, she’d either remember him or she wouldn’t guess he’d find out.
