zeppelin and bandits

I wander through this foreign interurban street with a firm sense of purpose and direction. Grasping my Leica with solemnity, instinctually aware of unwanted eyes fixated on the back of my skull.

An unassuming tourist. A lonesome and frail female. An easy target.

Of course, they mistakingly presume.

I am far too engrossed with my ancient surroundings and instead retaliate in defiance with the refusal to acknowledge my pursuers. Of course this unyielding sense of self assurance stems from the confidence that he is within reach awaiting my arrival.

I continue forth treading upon timeworn cobblestones, occasionally falling victim to the vastness between each dividing stone. A charming pale pink door catches my attention so I carefully navigate my way to the opposite side of the street. Simultaneously using this moment to scan the vicinity, comforted to note a throng of tourists scurrying throughout the Old Quarter.

Enamoured with the quaint entryway I spend countless moments attempting to capture such charm through my lens. But with the scorching afternoon sun trouncing atop my head and an insufferable humidity threatening to engulf me, I concede defeat and continue down the street, feeling wandering eyes advancing by matching my clumsy footsteps.

As I approach an intersection I finally catch a glimpse of him. Poised and statuesque, preoccupied with the magnificence staring down at him through his viewfinder.

Ignoring the uncomfortable trickle of sweat beading along my spine I stand there engaged with the sight of him. There’s something so captivating and alluring about him whenever he’s within reach of a camera. His passion and ability to find beauty in the obscure what drew me to him.

Feeling my lustful gaze he turns and acknowledges me with a cheeky smirk. His smile warm and ever so reassuring. Unashamed of my  gawking I cross the archaic road and run straight into his outstretched arms.

“Have I told you how much I love you”.

He chuckles softly, my body perfectly oscillating alongside his. I note something catch his eye past my shoulder. His pointed gaze no doubt eying off unwanted attention in the distance.

“Yes. Repeatedly”.

A deep chortle pulsates through his body and I can’t help but find his laughter contagious. With a soft kiss to my lips, he tenderly nudges me to his side and aims his lens towards the horizon.



2 thoughts on “zeppelin and bandits

    1. Wow thank you L. I was really unsure about this piece and been questioning my writing a lot in general so thank you for your beautiful words and support L. Don’t know what I’d do without you xxx

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