Archive for the 'Portraits of Strangers' Category

22
May

Little Bun: Superhero

By Sue Anne 1 Comment
Categories: Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories and Take To the Street

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“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Trapped in a bustling mall at the worst possible time – lunch, I was in line at a restaurant when I spotted Captain America riding the escalator. Kitted out from head to toe in a leather headgear, handsome blue jacket and jeans and of course, a red-white-and-blue shield - he strode confidently while examining his surroundings.

I watched him as he ambled around the cinema on the seventh floor of the shopping mall, obliging passers-by for photographs. There was no sign, no accompanying Avenger partners, nothing. Just him. Strolling.

It was too good an opportunity to pass up. I dashed over and waited patiently past eager children and giggling office girls. His face, half-covered, appeared handsome and strong. He posed strong-man style next to his younglings, staring off into the distance with a look that said, “Yes, I am here to protect and pose.”

When it was my turn, I shook my head when he shifted into yet another stance.

“I just want to know if you made this costume.” I asked.

Caught off-guard, he relaxed and nodded sheepishly. I replied, “That’s just awesome. What’s your name?”

It was the first time he appeared abashed. His Cosplay (costume play) name is “Little Bun” or xiaomantou (小馒头). The irony struck me as I tilted my head backwards to speak to his 6″2 frame. The movie Avengers was playing in the theatres then but he wasn’t paid to be walking advertisement. There was no need to given the glamorous lure of Hollywood and Marvel combined. Why are you here, if unpaid and simply posing for pictures in a random mall? I asked.

He shrugged, “I had time. Besides, this is fun.”

Little Bun was born and bred in Shanghai, and currently studying in university. He participated in Cosplay events, even performed in the annual ChinaJoy Cosplay Competition – where lusty men photographed endless half-naked young women in World of Warcraft costumes and Goth-dressed, pimply teenagers acted out their favorite Japanese anime novels.

I took down his number, much to the embarrassment of my colleague who commented that I was too old to be chatting up a young boy. Undeterred, I showed up per his instructions the next weekend in Jingan’s shopping mall, where he and his Cosplay friends were participating in an “American Heroes” exhibit. After that, he said, they had to practice for their play for the upcoming ChinaJoy.

Sure enough, on a hot and sweaty afternoon, I arrived to a smorgesboard of costume-clad teenagers in a copyright confusion/crossover from Marvel to Star Wars to DC Comics. Storm troopers posed with a Red Darth Vader, ambiguous interpretations of Spidermen and Supermen jumped around.

Little Bun was popular as Captain America, holding babies and embracing young girls in mini-skirts. He was shy by nature clearly but the mask gave him a veneer of confidence as it did anonymity.

But isn’t that the case with all our favorite superheroes? Continue reading ‘Little Bun: Superhero’

31
Dec

Happy New Year! and 2011 in review (part one)

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Exhibits, Talks and Publications, Off the Streets of Shanghai, Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories, Suburbs of Shanghai and The Fading Vestige

In the tradition of pensive reflection of the past year, I present to you the blog’s ”2011 in Review”. Below is the first of four installments rounding up my favorite stories each month. Hopefully this will keep you entertained over the long weekend. You can also read my review for 2010 here.

The pace of old housing demolition in Shanghai has slowed a little in comparison to the frenzied activity prior to the Shanghai World Expo in 2010.  This might be related to the Chinese government’s strict property tightening measures to scale back the real estate bubble, and the general malaise of the global financial crisis. On a positive note, on a recent visit to a half-flattened longtang, residents tell me they are now protected by laws to prevent forcible removal from their properties until all negotiations are complete. While not universally enforced, I am hearted by the small development.

2011 for me has been a significant amount of traveling to new cities and countries. In addition to revisiting Berlin, London and of course, home in Singapore, I visited for the first time Dubai, Seoul (and a very exciting jaunt to the North Korea border!), Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Vietnam. It was a year of new boundaries and new friends and I expect 2012 to be more of the same.

I want to thank regular readers, faithful commentators (you know who you are!) and occassional passers-by for visiting the blog. I occupy a small sliver of space in the vast Internet but work hard to piece together the stories and photos for our mutual pleasure. As always, I welcome your suggestions on how to improve my photography and writing.

My best wishes of good health and happiness to you for the New Year! I leave you with one of my favorite quotes, something I remind myself daily and find very apt for fresh starts in general.

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

January: Meeting Mr Cai (photo above) in Shanghai’s suburbs, whom I have designated “The Happiest Man in Shanghai”, was a fortuitous affair. I am reminded of his cheery optimisim at his old age which warms my heart each time I have a nasty encounter in Shanghai.

February: I was very glad to have documented the beautiful mosaic-tiled public service posters in Ruihua Lane (瑞华坊) which preached good manners and respect amongst the neighborhood’s residents. Unfortunately, the lane has emptied out in anticipation of razing.

On another note, my trip to the very sunny and excessively opulant Dubai.

March: One of my favorite photo essays on discovering life and color in dying neighborhoods undergoing demolishment. This one was in northern Jingan district, which I had rarely visited. Beauty often lies in character, and Shanghai’s old lanes are filled with them. Everytime you pass by an unassuming lane, make it a point to poke your head in.

A special mention of my contribution as co-author (along with Old Shanghai establishments including Tess Johnston) of the book “Still More Shanghai Walks” which we presented at the Shanghai Literary Festival and our booklaunch at the beautiful and quaint Old China Hand Cafe, where it is still available. I covered the former Jewish Ghetto and street markets of Tilanqiao.

A review of 2011 (part two) (part three) (part four)

02
Dec

Confessions in Desheng Lane (德生里)

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories and The Fading Vestige

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The entrance into De Sheng Lane (德生里) was like a door into nothingness. Surveying the vast sea of fallen brick and mortar, bleached by the blazing sun, I began treading slowly across the rocky terrain.

De Sheng Lane hugged the corner of Huimin Lu (惠民路) (formerly known as Baikal Road) and Dalian Lu (大连路)(formerly known as Dalny Road). After much reearch, I’ve theorised that it might have been named after Lian Desheng (连德生) (1893一1935) who was the bodyguard of a covert dual agent for the Chinese Communist Party, Yang Dengying (杨登瀛), who spied on the Kuomintang Party. Lian Desheng had previously worked for the British Tram Company located along Huimin Lu, not far from the lane, which leads one to assume he used to live in the area. Unfortunately, I had no one to confirm this with as all of the original residents have left.

While weather-beaten, the lane entrance was beautifully engraved by Qing Shannong (青山农) (1880~1969), a famous writer, painter and calligrapher. The few remaining structures in the longtang (弄堂) appeared to have been well-preserved even before demolition. The reddish brick hues and white outlines were clean and distinct, which made it a bigger shame to see them hollowed out.

Gingerly, I hopped from brick to beam to wood, watching for rusty nails and potential cave-ins. I knew I must have been a silly sight to behold, like an ant lost in a mess of dirt. But I was not alone.

In the distance, an elder woman in her 50s appeared to be sorting bricks. She waved upon seeing me, I could have sworn I saw the briefiest glimmer of her gold tooth reflected in the sun. Or perhaps it was from the brass buttons on her cheery sweater.

From Kaixin, Chongqing, Mrs Wu’s son-in-law owned the rights to the area of Desheng Lane for demolition and cleaning up. I’ve noted over the years that many people in this particular business were from Chongqing, drawing in many relatives and hometown friends to Shanghai, where they’d live and work together. Mrs Wu readily confirmed with a vigorous nod.

“I’m retired and just passing the time, you know,” she added as she deftly picked and separated piles of bricks, often used to refurbish old houses. “Look here, you see? The bricks are very good quality.” She pulled out a sturdy red brick, marked with “1934″ – the year the longtang was built, others were marked ”C.S.”, the manufacturer of the bricks.

At RMB 0.30 a brick redemption (RMB 0.25 for the smaller grey slates), it was quite a lucrative retirement. I joked about pitching in to split profits. She laughed, infectious and hearty, and continued chattering when I asked her if she goes home often. Not since she moved to Shanghai to join her children 9 years ago, she said.

“Although, I was there a few months ago to bury my daughter.”

I stopped, unsure how to respond. I was thrown off by her easy admission, of how her 31-year old second daughter had passed on due to a white blood cell-related disease. She waved her hands to excuse my murmured apologies, as if having sought closure a long time ago. She paused, her smile wavered ever so slightly, and resumed jabbering on about Kaixin, Shanghai, life and everything else in between.  Her husband, Mr Wu, and another neighbor later joined us, and minutes became an hour of folksy tales and shared photographs.

I noticed that some people that I have met in Shanghai, especially those far from their hometowns, shared details of their lives very easily. There were always stories of children left behind, mouths to feed, mortgages to pay and family members who were ill or even missing. They bury the stress on a daily basis, which forms a tightness in their chest that swells and gush forth at the slightest probe, which lasts as long as you had the patience to listen.

For a country where people are so distrustful of each other, confessions to strangers may be the catharsis they seek in a large and lonely city like Shanghai.

November 2011

28
Jan

Why aren’t you coming home?

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Portraits of Strangers and Street Stories

If you’re still in the big cities, you may have noticed a slow exodus of people as the holidays near. Your ayis (domestic helpers) have taken leave, as have the maintenance guys, security guards, street hawkers, masseuse girls and boys etc.

This extends to businesses. Manufacturing activity has slowly cut down as the workers begin the long journey home, affecting small, medium and even large businesses. Restaurants across the city are packed at lunch and dinner as a result of companies and danweis celebrating early New Year meals. Orange juice for the ladies, wine and baijiu for the men.

Yet, the opposite is happening too. There is a greater rush on the streets. the pushing and shoving, the manic electric scooter cutting across three lanes, the hustling, the yelps to “Hurry! Hurry!” All this to get orders out of the door but quality is relative. If you did not submit your work orders by a certain time, good luck, you’ll have to wait till after the New Year. That’s the soundtrack of the rushed and pressured, trying to get it all done before the New Year.

Poorer migrant workers would have left early to avoid the crush of people right before Chinese New Year. As the date nears, tickets become expensive, exacerbated by aggressive scalping. If you’re a banker, the bullet train to Nanjing will take 1 hr 15 minutes and set you back around RMB 150 (USD 22). If you’re a construction worker, you’d take the slow train which takes up to 6 hours but costs RMB 30 (USD 4.50). There is also an innate fear that some unforeseen disaster, natural or otherwise, may detain them from making it home for reunion dinner on 2 February.

But the anticipation is palpable. People start conversations with, “Are you going home?” and “When are you leaving?” If you are from the city with no urgency to scamper from airport, train or bus station, the white collar conversation leads to “Are you going out of the country for the holidays?” I hear Australia is a popular destination.

Preparations for the journey home is fraught with worry. Money has to be prepared to give to parents and grandparents. Presents acquired in advanced for the little ones. All of this has to be carefully packed to prevent theft on the trains and buses. Some bolster themselves with explanations of a new beau or the lack there of. Excuses and little white lies to make up for the fact that the job you have isn’t really the job you told everyone in your hometown.

I recently met a bright young man on a plane to Guangzhou who used to work for Foxconn, part of Taiwan-based Hon Hai, the largest electronics manufacturer (oh yes, they produce IPhones and were in the news when their workers began to throw themselves off buildings). He had quit to start his own business in LEDs. “My parents would die if they find out I had left a stable job. Three engineers trying to be entrepreneurs? It’s a tough world, but I have to do it or I’ll regret it.”

Then there are the ones that stay behind, whether by choice or circumstance. Insufficient money and time are often cited reasons. Shame is another.

“It takes me 4 days to go home, 3 days on the train and 1 on a bus. I can’t take that much time off work.”

“I’m still an apprentice at this hair salon, only washing people’s hair. I can only go home if I move up a rung and be at least a stylist’s assistant.”

“I have friends who have become successful in their jobs, making more money and have spouses to take home. I have nothing. Why bother going home and lose face?”

As I watched a pretty young masseuse of less than 30 sitting opposite me, kneading my feet, I noticed her puffy, red, calloused hands. Her knuckles were slightly swollen, giving away the years she has been in the industry. Strands of hair fell down as sweat beaded on her forehead. It was about 10pm, I could tell she had a long day.

“I’ve a 4 year old boy,” she said. But no, she is not going home to Henan. At the store, the staff takes turn every other year during Chinese New Year to go home. The young and unattached see it as an opportunity to revel under the fireworks in the big city. The family-oriented ones are weighed down by guilt.

“It’s hard when your child is crying on the phone and then turning to their grandparents because I’m not around.” Nothing is worse for a parent who cannot adequately answer when a child asks, “Why aren’t you coming home?”

21
Jan

A slice of winter wonderland

By Sue Anne 0 Comments
Categories: Art, Games and Hobbies, Portraits of Strangers and Street Stories

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In the three years living in Shanghai, I’ve never really encountered a good snow day. You know, the kind that can silence a city, or in the case of Shanghai with its over 20 million residents, muzzle the few that a hard snowfall can drive indoors. I miss that heavy silence and emptiness of an ongoing snowfall, like a perfect vacuum in outer space.

I savoured a brief moment in the garden of my compound yesterday where the grass was coatedwith a light dust of white. Traffic was sparse for no parent would allow their child to catch a cold in the deceptively chilly snow.

Save for the little boy I spotted from my balcony. A dark spot was moving patiently across the patch and back again. It was a little boy rolling a snowball to birth a snowman. I felt compelled to join him even as a spectator.

By then, a few residents had taken to strolling around the garden, on the small knoll and around the pond which had frozen over. The palette of neutrals was enormously pleasing.

The boy’s snowman was modest despite his best efforts, evident by his small hands which had turned red from the cold. By then, he had armed himself with an umbrella to focus more thoroughly on his endeavour. It was around noon and the snow kept coming down, softly but steadily.

Nearby, another young boy was pelting his nanny with small snowballs. He mimicked the first boy in attempting a snowman, who by this time was comically fighting the uncooperative umbrella while grappling with the snow.

“Why don’t you give him a hand?” I suggested to the second boy who immediately went over and lifted the umbrella by the tip. A stunned look turned to grattitude and finally, the body met a head and the snowman was completed.

The two boys then departed separately, leaving a small and sad snowman behind with two thin arms and no eyes or mouth.

Nearby, a mother kept a watchful eye over her son as he tossed pebbles into the pond. Lest he, like any of us, would be curious to test the sheet of ice on the pond.

January 2011

20
Jan

Snow in Shanghai and other things…

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories and Suburbs of Shanghai

It was such a rush of pure joy to pull open the curtains this morning and be greeted by the quiet thud of snow that had blanketed the city overnight. While it was harder to maneuver around the streets, we’re lucky the weather rarely overextends itself in this part of the region.

But we’re still early on in the day, the dusts of snow do not seem to be relenting. I’m enjoying watching the snow from 37 floors up, dancing in all directions in accordance to the wind. As if mocking me for hiding in the warmth of my building.

Watching kids and teenagers skid around in the snow, outstretched hands snapping shots on their mobile phones, I was wondering if I should find myself a park at lunchtime to start a snowball fight.

A dash of happiness to start everyone off this morning. I thought it was appropriate to add my final photo of the happiest man I’ve met in Shanghai. I imagine his house and farm to be covered entirely in white, but am sure he would make the best of the situation. If he has a mobile, I’d have texted to say hello. Alas, he doesn’t.

Stay warm. Travel safe.

18
Jan

The Happiest Man in Shanghai

By Sue Anne 8 Comments
Categories: Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories, The Fading Vestige and The Lives Within

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“Come along, come along!” he enthusiastically motioned me to catch up. For all his 60 years, he walked with a spring in his step while wheeling his bicycle. He took us through a narrow pathway that led to a compound of old and new homes, his skipping quickened to a brisk trot.

“This is my neighborhood! Much has changed, we used to made up of villages and farms.” “But next time you come here, you know how to get around. Just tell them you know me, Mr Cai!” As he nattered on, his smile widened by the mile and his good cheer only grew more infectious. He spoke rapid Shanghainese and only slowed down once in a while to switch to Mandarin for my benefit.

I chanced upon Mr Cai’s house when I was riding toward the end of Line 5 (an extension of Line 1, interchange at Xinzhuang (莘庄)). His house was a lone structure in the traditional Chinese architecture style called 挑山 (tao shan – or literally ‘peach mountain’) where the main ridges curved outward on the two ends of the Chinese gable roof. The carvings were simple, depicting the modest roots of the household and the village when it was still a collective.

Now, a wide road sliced through it, with light-goods factories from the 1990s thrown up alongside it. Mr Cai’s house stood alone in a 4 to 5 block-length farm which has sprouted from a demolished plot of land. Developers had torn neighboring homes but for some reason, construction stalled and the land fell idle. Not ones to let anything go to waste, neighboring residents, some former and all retired, gathered to begin planting simple vegetable crops like bak choy, lettuce, spring onions, chrysanthemums and even cotton.

Yes, cotton bushes were plentiful though not enough to make an industry out of it. Mr Cai proudly pulled at his blue pants and rubbed a head of cotton in his fingers for show, “My wife spun these for me from the cotton we grow, she makes all my clothes!” When he introduced me to his wife who was harvesting bags of vegetables, I was immediately struck by her petite frame and sparkling eyes. She looked older due to years of labor yet wore her age well and I imagined her beauty made her the belle of the village in her youth. She blushed at the statement. Her husband laughed, abashed yet in agreement.

Mr Cai (Like ‘matchstick’(火柴) in Chinese! he exclaimed) had worked in a factory until his recent retirement. Like many of his neighbors in his once former village, where many carried the same surname like a clan, his farm fed his family well. Giant squashes! Giant cucumbers! all craftily tucked away. Most of his personal plot was encircled in a makeshift fence that mysteriously had no entrance until he pulled aside a thicket of prickly and thorny bushes to reveal a small opening. “To keep intruders out,” he smirked. He generously plucked at his many herbs and vegetables to let us touch and smell. Halfway through our little tour, he insisted on gifting us two giant bags of bak choy. “More? You want more?” he generously urged.

Stepping into his house, I saw vegetables and cotton piled in the corner, and hanging on the wall was his granddaughter’s school schedule. Waving me along, he showed me whole bags of tools, of which many were for trimming hair and beards. He had opened a modest barber shop since retirement, putting a skill he had acquired since he was a child to good use.

“Do you want to come visit my barber shop?” He had asked eagerly. There was this vibrating energy about him, all he wanted to do is share, as if his heart would burst otherwise.

He unlocked the front of a storage unit and it was like stepping into a quaint universe of yesteryear. A single old barber chair (RMB 100/ USD 15) stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by an equally old television. It had the personal stamp of a teenager finally given his or her own room after years of cajoling, Mr Cai hung old photographs and posters of Mao Zedong and other great Chinese leaders. Phrases were also scribbled all over in chalk that summarized his life philosophy: “Please love and take care of yourself.” “Be safe in your journeys” “Wishing you good health!” “Live a long life!” At the entrance, there was a small piece of paper that listed the 30 ways to a more fulfilling life – filled with health and mental tips to be positive and happy. There were no religious overtones or verses – just plain common sense and good wishes from one kind and gentle man to his customers.

“If I have enough for rent, I don’t charge for close friends,” he said while testing a razor on his scruffy beard. Hit by another inspiration, he climbed on a chair to open a small attic hatch. “I also go fishing in the river nearby!” he huffed as he pulled out his fishing pole and net. Wringing his hands, he looked around for other things to show us. It was hard to keep track of his wandering thoughts.

The whole time, I marveled at his energy, enthusiasm and bursting optimism. His barbershop was like a little space where he reveled in his hobbies, good cheer and warm thoughts. “I love your shop, Mr Cai,” I said sincerely. His affection for people around him – waving at old friends as they pass by, identifying them by their positive traits and memories, – and generosity to strangers reinforced why it was important to see the individual and not society when the latter gets you down. Shanghai can be tough on its inhabitants, but individuals like Mr Cai float above the stress, tension and lack of care that pervade on the worst of days.

I returned a few weeks later to give Mr Cai some portraits I took of him and his family. His son accepted them as he was away with friends. “Are they at the barbershop?” I asked, hoping to hang at Mr Cai’s Wonder Emporium. A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth, the son replied, “The shop’s gone. They are renovating it for residential housing.”

November/December 2010

07
Jan

A review of 2010 (part three)

By Sue Anne 0 Comments
Categories: Art, Games and Hobbies, Behind the Camera Interviews, Portraits of Strangers, Street Stories and Take To the Street

I leave you with the third installment of my review of last year’s work. I bid you good weekend. For those in Shanghai, do bundle up. Maybe we’ll bump into each other on the streets this weekend.

I was recently gifted a Blackbird, Fly Toy Camera, an adorable 35mm “toy” twin-lens reflex (TLR) camera. I believe this is when purists go “pish posh”. I say, “time to find me some film”.

The street art you see above is by the talented Grayson Stalling, located along the stretch of Moganshan Lu.

July: Was a good month for street photography and shadows. I had the distinct pleasure of interviewing Tang Ying (唐颖) whose sublime street photography both in Shanghai and San Francisco (and now doing wonderful work in Europe) is worth revisiting.

“And then the sun came out to play”: The late afternoon is the witching hour for street photography, what with the falling sun and sharp shadows that take a life on its own.

August: “The tale of a skaterboy” – I met Wan Cheng (万成) at The Love Park, a key skateboarder’s hangout south of the Shanghai Concert Hall (上海音乐厅南广场). He took off his shirt to show me a tattoo of his mother. One of my favorite stories.

“Echoes and the crunch of broken glass”: A footnote on the joys of exploring old abandoned factory spaces. In this case, the former Philips light bulb factory.

September: “Haircare” - Mr Baldy and Mr L’oreal meet. Enough said.

A review of 2010 (part one) (part two) (part four)

06
Jan

A review of 2010 (part two)

By Sue Anne 2 Comments
Categories: Art, Games and Hobbies, Portraits of Strangers and Street Stories

I continue with a review of my favorite (and yours, in some cases) photos from 2010. It’s always nice to look back at the style and subjects of past work, as an assessment of how much one has learned and how far more one has to go.

April: “Speak softly, but carry a big can of paint” - My first encounter with one of the many talented street artists that grace the infamous Moganshan Wall which morphs every so often. Go quickly to visit before it is torn down.

“Portraits of Strangers #1″: Armed with an old-school 50mm 1.8, I decided to capture portraits, as close as possible. This portrait is by far my favorite of the lot. There is so much character in one’s face.

May: “Lessons from shooting 2010 <我在上海 世博特刊>” - I shot the magazine cover of a travel magazine for Taiwan’s largest travel agency, Lion Travel. Hilarious stories would ensue, also known as “Dangers of photographing snotty children”.

“Sunrise on the Bund (Part 1)”: A month after the newly renovated Bund opened, the only time to take it in all its splendor is at sunrise. Old men kite flying, drunk youths racing and morning tai-chi.

June: “A Photographer’s Eviction from the house on Yulin Road” - A beautiful row of houses that retain their original interior, but unfortunately falling apart. An adventure to photograph it runs a little awry.

Behind the Camera with my friend Xi Zi (席子) on documenting Shanghai’s longtang and shikumen, available in English and Chinese. Do check out the site he administers, Shanghaimage. You will be awed by how much heritage architecture that goes unnoticed, though rapidly disappearing, in the city.

Also recommended, Katya Knyazeva’s elaborate work on Old Town (老城厢), her interview here.

A review of 2010 (part one) (part three) (part four)

14
Sep

Haircare

By Sue Anne 4 Comments
Categories: Portraits of Strangers and Street Stories

I found him standing by the pavement, staring into the distance. He was wrapped in a large plastic sheet with a giant plastic clip cinched near his neck. His hair was slicked back thoroughly with a black and purplish paste, his crown splattered with dye.

“How long more?” I asked of his dye job.

Unperturbed, he replied, “30 minutes. This just went on on.”

“You know,” he continued, “This dye is L’oreal. No local brand for me. All these terrible news about toxins in hair dye.”

I asked how often he had to dye his hair.

“Once a month, otherwise, it’s just a shock of grey hair,” he guffawed.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed a large pink mass walk by. I looked up and found his friend, a shirtless man, stroking his belly as he contemplated which chair to settle himself into.

He was also bald. Very bald.

I slowly smiled. How about you guys pose together? I asked.

Mr. L’oreal looked at Mr. Baldy and scratched his head. Sure, he shrugged. As they posed, both solemn faces, something dawned on Mr. L’oreal.

He started laughing, and kept laughing and laughing. Seemed he caught on to my cheekiness while Mr. Baldy looked bewildered. Mr. L’oreal pointed at Mr Baldy’s shiny top, and then his own. Next thing I knew, a crowd had gathered and everyone was laughing as well.

One last flash of teeth at the camera, and it was a wonderful way to end the afternoon.

July 2010

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