Turban Man Portrait, Rajasthan India
It was dusk, far from homes but not too far from a tea stall at a junction. I’d paused on the side of the road when I noticed this man walking alone. When he saw me, he slowly walked to where I was still straddling my bike. He gently put his hand on my right hand, which was resting on the handlebar, and he looked me in the eyes and just talked. His speech seemed a little slurred and I could smell alcohol on his breath. His tone seemed neutral, and his expressions suggested exhaustion.
I will never know what he said.
And there is an old man who's out walking along the highway
And in his face a thousand futures, all run out
And when he sees you he says "Hey, you going my way?"
And you whisper, "Yes, there never was a single doubt"
Turban Man Portrait, Rajasthan India
It was dusk, far from homes but not too far from a tea stall at a junction. I’d paused on the side of the road when I noticed this man walking alone. When he saw me, he slowly walked to where I was still straddling my bike. He gently put his hand on my right hand, which was resting on the handlebar, and he looked me in the eyes and just talked. His speech seemed a little slurred and I could smell alcohol on his breath. His tone seemed neutral, and his expressions suggested exhaustion.
I will never know what he said.
And there is an old man who's out walking along the highway
And in his face a thousand futures, all run out
And when he sees you he says "Hey, you going my way?"
And you whisper, "Yes, there never was a single doubt"