he said 'no pictures'. he said cameras stole people's souls. I brushed him off in my new world arrogance and snapped a shot when he wasn't looking. later I was sitting smug-artistic in a cafe and when the cappuccino machine stopped hissing I heard a tiny screech. I noticed something peculiar about my lens. He was in there. tiny and furious. terrified. he cursed me in a language too small to understand.

I walked down to a pawn shop and sold the camera. film and all.