Who was that, in a shiny rental car, who stopped to photograph the defunct Big Smoke?
He seemed especially interested in the "For Lease" sign that's falling out of the top window, so that you can't read the phone number.
And why did he drive back off the highway to Rancheree Street to take this photo? Did he think I didn't see him?
Does he know why, whenever he photographs a person, the picture will be blurred? Is it because he didn't ask permission?
Is that why, when he paused by the swap meet (big blank green building, tiny handwritten sign on the door) and saw three children playing happily in a dumpster, he turned around, drove back downtown, and took this photo instead?
Does he understand our religious life? Does he want to?
What was he looking for in that photo? The mountains, or the laundry? Can he see both at once?
And what of this photo? Did he think it looks like some kind of classic of poverty journalism, the old woman with her bag walking along the road?
Of course, the photo is blurred. Because he can't really see us, can he?
And who are we, anyway? We don't talk like this.
The man in the rental car, talking to himself. This is how he talks.