He is sitting on the curb with his backpack on, a little grubby from the streets and having just woken up. He is watching his 'girl' accept a couple of dresses she has asked for. Her eyes are big and lit up. It's the way he is smiling at her. There is tenderness. There is something like deep appreciation for this moment of her receiving something she wanted. And responding to her joy.
I see the look and I wonder how we would all be transformed if there was someone that would look at us with this regard. And there was no hope of getting the camera. It was a moment that could not be interrupted by being seen any more than it was.
Name it. What is this place called?
Love. It is called love.
Even though it wears disguises and sometimes I don't recognize it at first.
What do you have to do here?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Thank you Dear Anonymous, thank you.