Sunday, February 27, 2005

Pro gears.

There are four cheetahs cubs in display at the Zoo. Their enclosure is not big and they already are feeling a bit cramped. Running around like 4 kittens. They are adorable. The mother looking from afar. I am there watching in the cold with a dozen or so people.
The two women next to me are taking notes on the cubs behavior. "Front-back", "climbing", "left-right". "What would you say that was?" asks one woman, "Fighting or playing?" Talking loudly so make sure no one misses the fact that they are working for the Zoo. I look at all the people who came with their camera. Incredible lenses. Some as long as 30 to 40 centimeters, huge black cylinders that make the camera tips toward the front. Large tripod or single pole. All are guys in their 40s and 50s except a woman holding one of these monster. She is hugging it like a baby and asking an older woman to help her with the film rolls that she has just taken out of her pockets. Something about her demeanor though, makes me think that this is not her camera. Nothing precise, just the way she looks intimidated and awed by the image she knows she is projecting. I don't have to wait long to get a final word on my suspicion. A fellow photographer comes up to her to talk about her gear. He has not said 5 words about her camera when she interrupts with a sorry air "Oh! This is not mine. It's my husband's. He is getting something out of the car".
Surrounded by all the pros, I cannot muster the courage to take my camera off my pocket. It's
a small 27 exposures disposable.


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