Lydia Jablonski
I am right next to the speaker. I plug my left ear with one hand and hold down the shutter with the other. Taking pictures continuously feels gluttonous but as usual I decide it is necessary. There is so much going on that I can barely register the details.
People wander along the cell block hypnotized by the audio tour. Their audio is out of synch and at first glance, their movements look random. But there is a sloppy choreography as each moves to the spot where they are told to stand. The closer you are standing to someone the more in sync your audio. Of course regular elevator distribution rules also remain in effect.
There is a beggar in the middle of the overpass by the electronics market. He is stretched out awkwardly on his stomach diverting people as they walk by. I will not be taking pictures of him but moving down to the end of the walkway, he is still on my mind. I pick a spot next to a garbage can at the top of the stairs.
A girl plays with a spray bottle, using it as a squirt gun. I try to ignore the first drops on my camera. But when it gets too be too much, I shoo her away.
I stand still and watch the people walking by. They come in clumps. Couples and groups of friends. Or strangers grouped by stoplights. A baby squats in the center of my frame. Is this really happening? I keep taking pictures.
