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In the everyday bustle of market day, something unexpected happened. I got my shot.
Il a plu toute la nuit, mais maintenant le soleil brille. Les chauds rayons tombent sur mon visage. Pendant quelques secondes, je ferme les yeux et en profite. Lorsque je les ouvre, j’aperçois un groupe de femmes. Elles avancent vers moi. Deux d’entre elles chantent, ou plutôt fredonnent. Les deux autres tapent des mains. Puis, elles tournent dans une allée en emportant avec elles leur mélodie. Leur joie me colle à la peau.
In front of me, in the aisle running parallel to the wall, two men. They move back and forth between here and the outside, returning with heavy sacks draped over their broad shoulders. This is the moment I’d been waiting for. Is their presence a stroke of chance? No matter, I settle in, focus.
I’ve got my shot.
The curtain shifts; a hand pushes it aside as the man steps out, indifferent to my presence. He walks forward, then turns toward me. Over his right shoulder, he carries a sack stuffed with vegetables. In spots where the fabric is torn, green stems poke out like the heads of curious children. I press the shutter and capture the moment. The farmer turns the corner and vanishes, swallowed by the dense crowd.
In the everyday rhythm of market day, something unexpected has occurred.
