Street Prostitute 34: Photographing Ronda
Excerpted from RONDA: AN INTIMATE PORTRAIT OF A SOUTHERN STREETWALKER. You may buy volume one of this ebook or read fifty pages for free here:
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…A bleak silence falls over the room.
"Did you bring some pictures, George?" Ronda finally asks.
"I was going to print today, but the water's off in my darkroom."
"Oh," she says, no longer sounding so mad.
"I was going to print some very beautiful pictures of you with...with the bears…. However, do you know what this book needs?"
"Uh uh."
"It needs a picture of what you look like right now. ... And then you can look at it."
Ronda erupts. "What's wrong with the way I look now? I'd like to know what the fuck y'all think I look like! I've got fucking strep throat….”
She fades off.
Outside the sun has set, and the room is so dark now that I cannot clearly see Ronda's features. Speaking gently I say, "You know, Ronda, I don't know about the problems between you and Melvin or whatever, but when I was talking about how you look right now? You're sick with your throat, I understand that. But your eyes ...are just...heavy as hell... Like bloodshot."
"Well—[her voice weak]—you can call my mother—[pathetic, really]—and ask my mother...if it's not true...that the first thing that people looked at was my eyes...and know I was sick. My eyes tell everything!"
"Okay," I say. "I know you could care less about this project right now... I was just thinking about getting a picture of you in bad shape. But I don't need to, you know."
"Under the covers?"
"Huh? Under the covers? That would be all right," I say. "So just get back in bed."
When I get back from my car with my camera, Ronda is no longer in the chair at the dresser, neither is she under the covers, but is sitting on the edge of the bed cuddling Bob in her lap.
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Excerpted from RONDA: AN INTIMATE PORTRAIT OF A SOUTHERN STREETWALKER. You may buy volume one of this ebook or read fifty pages for free here:
Street Prostitute 34: Photographing Ronda
Excerpted from RONDA: AN INTIMATE PORTRAIT OF A SOUTHERN STREETWALKER. You may buy volume one of this ebook or read fifty pages for free here:
********************************************************************************
…A bleak silence falls over the room.
"Did you bring some pictures, George?" Ronda finally asks.
"I was going to print today, but the water's off in my darkroom."
"Oh," she says, no longer sounding so mad.
"I was going to print some very beautiful pictures of you with...with the bears…. However, do you know what this book needs?"
"Uh uh."
"It needs a picture of what you look like right now. ... And then you can look at it."
Ronda erupts. "What's wrong with the way I look now? I'd like to know what the fuck y'all think I look like! I've got fucking strep throat….”
She fades off.
Outside the sun has set, and the room is so dark now that I cannot clearly see Ronda's features. Speaking gently I say, "You know, Ronda, I don't know about the problems between you and Melvin or whatever, but when I was talking about how you look right now? You're sick with your throat, I understand that. But your eyes ...are just...heavy as hell... Like bloodshot."
"Well—[her voice weak]—you can call my mother—[pathetic, really]—and ask my mother...if it's not true...that the first thing that people looked at was my eyes...and know I was sick. My eyes tell everything!"
"Okay," I say. "I know you could care less about this project right now... I was just thinking about getting a picture of you in bad shape. But I don't need to, you know."
"Under the covers?"
"Huh? Under the covers? That would be all right," I say. "So just get back in bed."
When I get back from my car with my camera, Ronda is no longer in the chair at the dresser, neither is she under the covers, but is sitting on the edge of the bed cuddling Bob in her lap.
______________________
Excerpted from RONDA: AN INTIMATE PORTRAIT OF A SOUTHERN STREETWALKER. You may buy volume one of this ebook or read fifty pages for free here: