From the series "The One's That Ask"
It was Friday afternoon in Jerusalem, and I was in the thick of that mayhem. "Take my Picture," I heard. I kept walking. Too much was going on around me, and the sounds and sights were a blur. Then I heard it again, louder and earnestly insistent. "I want you to take my picture!" I stopped and looked at him. I saw the message on his shirt and I saw his clear blue eyes. I smiled. "OK," I said. I scanned our immediate surroundings, and crouched (into Malasana) to take the shot. "I like the message on your shirt," I said. He was keeping still, opting to maintain the posture and glance he was in when I first saw him. After I clicked, he looked at me. "Have you known love," he asked me. I stood, and let out a long sigh, as some kind of version of the most honest answer I could give. He considered me, and then continued. " I loved someone once," he said. I waited, not sure if more was coming. Children behind us were screaming. The bus I wanted to board was approaching. "Years after she was gone, my entire body still trembled in pain." A look of incredulousness flashed on his face as he said it. "Oh," I said softly. I stood there; he was quiet, but we were somehow still talking. "Thank you for taking my picture," he said a few minutes later. I nodded. "Thank you for it. Thank you for having truly loved," I said. I walked the rest of my way as the bus was gone, and I took more pictures, with love.