Photo Opportunity

I watched the man crossing the path

underneath the cascade of the waterfall.

It had been part of the route wine was carried

from the high lands, to be sold on the coast.

Back in the old days, that was.

But the old days weren’t very long ago.

He seemed confident

as he placed a foot carefully

in each of the footholds

hacked into the precipitous rock face.

He gripped the thick metal hawser

attached to the rock with strong

metal rings.

Gripped it firmly

and proceeded slowly

one step at a time.

I had a camera

and I thought

that it was a picture he would like to have

when he was dry and safe back on terra firma.

Then I thought,

suppose he falls,

falls into the waves,

to be smashed against the rocks

far below.

I didn’t want to have such a picture,

a picture of someone’s last moments

and I thought,

to take it

may jinx his journey

and even cause him to fall.

So I never took the picture.

But it made no difference.

The man fell anyway.


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