They were there for hours. Taking turns, back and forth, one posing while the other took a picture. I wandered off, looked for other images. Wandered back again, they were still there. Wandered off, and back again, they had not left. They seemed oblivious to the queue that had formed, other people who wanted selfies with the rocks. Everyone was shifting, impatient. Sometimes giggles, rolling eyes. A vague sense of injustice. How many pictures could two guys need? How many different poses? Nobody knew what to do.
Standing there, looking through my viewfinder, puzzling out the situation. I felt a momentary sense of responsibility. As the only foreigner on the beach, I commanded a certain celebrity. (Three different people had asked to take photos with me. I was almost as popular as the rocks!) Was the onus on me to approach the greedy guys, to suggest they give other people a chance?
Of course not. What an absurd thought. But it did occur to me, in passing.
I almost wandered off again. But then, I stopped, and took the picture. With them in it. I guess, to see what the camera would see.
Later on, as I was editing that photo, assuming I wouldn’t use it for anything, I realized, oh. My editor has a tool that can erase them. With a swipe of my finger, I tried it, I cleansed the image of the weird intrusion, the bothersome presence. There, I thought, empty landscape. Relief. Just the rocks, no posing guys. More like how it should be… more like how it is.
But, no… it was wrong. The image was off. Could it be? I missed them. I can’t say why. I put them back. These silly guys, these human figurines, with their matching shirts, and distressed jeans, I zoomed in to see up close, their idea of how they wanted to be seen. It was their performance. I could change a lot of things, the highlights, the shadows, the vibrance, whatever. But they changed the world. I couldn’t stop it, they made it what it was.