You probably aren't remotely curious about what they're doing at your local supermarket before dawn. If so, you have permission to stop reading right now.
They're getting ready for the day. The aisles are littered with boxes and torn plastic wrap. It's one of the few times in life when you can come upon a man crouching with a matt knife in his hand and not hear scary movie music in your head.
The freezer doors are foggy because someone's just held them open to restock all the frozen dinners.
Someone's waxing the floor. You may run into him several times as you circle the store in your pre-caffeinated state. If so, you will feel like old friends by the time you leave.
Someone's unloading rolling 7-foot high carts of baked goods into the bins. She is inevitably the cheeriest person in the store, because the scent of new bread absolutely does inspire euphoria.
The cashier is doing some kind of paperwork because she's about to finish her night. You forgive her for being distracted by the numbers and the stiffness in the back of her neck.
The fruit is lined up like children in an elementary school choir. It wants you to take its photograph.
I've been coming to this store before dawn for years. It never ceases to kind of excite me to see the inner workings. Like being in the tunnels beneath Disneyland for the first time, I expect.
I would really like to do a series of photographs of all those things I just mentioned. But I still run into photography emotional blocks. Like someone's going to wrestle me to the ground and take my baby--er, camera--from me because I just took their picture.
I barely managed to snap this shot before the produce guy looked up--probably in response to the flash I'd forgotten in my guilty haste to turn off--to see me shoving my Nikon back into my purse.
And then, of course, I felt like I was stealing peaches.
1 comment:
Being at the store at this time, watching all the hub-bub, reminds of Universal Studios. You mean it's not this clean and filled all the time?
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