If you talk to Vanessa, she'll claim my signature concert shot wouldn't exist without her. While I do have to give her credit for shouting at me TAKE A PICTURE OF HIS SHOES!!! for the majority of the concert, shoe photography is nothing new to me. It's a staple detail shot I take at every wedding.
See?
What Vanessa didn't know, and nobody knows is that I had written something 2 years before taking the first shoe shot that described the picture. Almost exactly. I enjoy writing for fun, with no intention of anyone ever reading any of it, but today, dear readers, I'm going to share an excerpt with you.
My eyes were focused on my feet; I watched the movement on the ground. Pairs of shoes rushed about the crowded airport. When two sets stopped, I knew the owners were happily embracing without needing to look up. It made me miserable. I wiped away my tears angrily, momentarily distracting my silent vigil. The rolling suitcase that stopped beside me came out of nowhere. As I fought to control my emotions, a black bandana was handed to me.
"Thank you," I whispered as I dabbed at my damp cheeks. My heard jumped into my throat: I knew that scent. Too afraid to look up, I stared at the shoes next to mine.
The black army boots were so worn at the toes, they were grey in spots. Aged from years of use and beaten down, yet still holding. Just like their owner.
After that, I've been trying to get a picture of musicians shoes at the shows I go to. I like how every shot is different and captures their style and individuality. One of my friends suggested that I make a coffee table book of shoe shots. I don't have nearly enough yet, but maybe someday...
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