This man was so, well, artfully arranged on this bench that I suspect it might have been a “performance” of some sort. Even if not I had no compunction in photographing him because he appeared to be deeply asleep (not unconscious or dead because one of the gallery attendants checked) and he’s not recognisable from this picture.
I was at the Tate Britain to see the Holbein exhibition with my lovely friend C. It was spectacular but, because it was the last day, hideously crowded. Perhaps the man on the bench had found it all too much and retreated to a larger, cooler, more comfortable space to lie down and recover.
I’m finding the discipline of forcing myself to take a picture every day very rewarding so far. It means investigating how to use far more features of the camera than I usually employ. Basic technical things like adjusting the white balance and ISO setting (“film” speed). I bought a book on digital photography yesterday and am working my way through it doggedly.
Circumstances on the domestic front are becoming clearer and easier too, albeit still requiring some technical expertise. A new love for him (which seems to be making him very happy) will, I hope, ease his transition from one space to another. I’m so glad that one of us has found tenderness, and I hope that I too will be able to move on soon with my life.