The Marshmallow Paradox
Photo courtesy of Eric Swanson, photographer of amazing ability and two-marshmallowed phenomenon
A Santa Fe photographer knelt against the concrete curb, a long-lensed Nikon pressed against his face. I could see his dirty-blonde eyebrows, a hint of calculated smile. His left cheek radiated concentration, the stark and bitter flavor of work. His assistant lifted a memory-wire rimmed white circle. She let the sun fret behind it, let the flat umbrella cast opaque light on her subject. I stood, my cowboy boots on decorative gravel, an Avon bag in my left hand.
"Hey, what's the strangest person you ever photographed?"
I let my voice rise over the wind. My hair whipped against my back. A gold clip encrusted with fake jewels couldn't hold it, couldn't hold the mountain cascade of harsh air, the tide of time.
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8:17:37 PM 
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