It’s just after 9am as Emily May Rose makes her way up Long Street, slowly gliding along the right-hand side of the street on her roller skates, dodging the parked cars. It’s relatively quiet for a Sunday morning and there is very little traffic. In her hands she holds her old Zeiss Contaflex camera that her Dad gave her the day she left home at the tender age of 18. “That was almost 18 years ago now” she thinks to herself, and she smiles thinking about how her antique camera has captured some of the most epic images from around the world as she travelled from one country to the next. Her photographs appearing in travel magazines along with her captivating stories that accompanied them. She is still quite amazed that she has been able to support herself all this time just by selling her photos and stories. And to think that it all started with a few simple journal entries about her interactions and experience as she moved from one culture to the next; always living with the locals and immersing herself in the present moment. “I’m a lucky woman” she says out loud. But it was time for her give up the Gypsy Life and come home to her roots. She had recently received word that her Aunt Erica was not well and was asked to come home and help settle Erica’s affairs.  

With an abundance of 35mm film in her bag she is photographing everything she sees. Up ahead she sees an old landmark building, the Hotel “Rose’s Lime Juice”, which was built in the early 1900’s. She thinks to herself “It has worn the years very well”. She slows down to take in the beautiful architecture of the building. Nearby the hotel entrance she sees an old, weathered man sitting on the pavement. It is clear that he is a beggar and even though he wears a sad smile, she notices that he has a spark and a twinkle in his eyes. She stops and asks him if she may take his portrait. He says nothing; he just nods and holds her gaze. He stares directly into the lens of her camera she snaps one single frame and knows that that is all she needs. She has her shot; and thankfully so as it is the last frame of the roll. Not wanting to break the moment she decides to wait until she leaves him to reload her camera.

“What is your name, Sir?” Emily asks. The Beggar does not answer; he just shrugs his shoulders and looks away. “I’m sure you have a few interesting stories to share” she says, hoping that he might offer up a tale or two. The Beggar looks back towards her and just gives her a knowing smile. He slowly stands up, puts his hands in his pockets and gives her a nod as if to politely end their interaction. Emily returns his nod and says “Well, uh, thank you. Perhaps we’ll meet again.” Not wanting to annoy him she decides to take her leave. “Bye now”, she says as she steps back onto the street and skates up the road to the closest bus stop. The morning is slipping away from her and she is eager to get home and develop her films.