Broken Smile
by: Joel Feliciano
© 2006
Subconsciously my mind wanted to capture the blooming of the dark umbrellas on film. That's why I brought my (digital) camera that day. The rain was thin and annoying, and the clouds were swirling in the sky. I was waiting for the bus with a bunch of people under a tent. Some raindrops were pounding on the leather of the roof.
I was busy taking pictures of the people walking from the tent to the bus, opening and closing their umbrellas, when I noticed her, on the sidewalk, her face towards the rain, her eyes closed in a trance, a smile on her face. I took a picture of her. The drops dripping from her bangles, her hands limp on her sides, her head thrown back facing the ashed sky, her clothes soaking wet, plastered on her breast, on her stomach, on her legs. I took another picture and then thought that there were a lot of crazy people in the world.
My bus arrived. I tucked my camera in my jacket. Grabbed my umbrella, pushed the little black button, (I'm always aware of these small details, sometimes I'm annoyed, my girlfriend says that that's the nature of photographers, I guess she's right). So yes, I also noticed how I shook the umbrella so it would extend and then bloom with a flapping noise. I noticed the bony, metallic structure of the inside, and the little drops of rain that bounced off the black fabric just before I set the umbrella over me. The same thing happened when I stepped in the bus, but in rewind.
Through the dropleted glass I watched her stading there, smiling at the sky, unmoved, unbothered by the sharp cold drops of rain.
I checked the pictures in my camera, a stern-face guy lifting his umbrella, the inside of the flower of another, and then her. She is so happy.
I was shocked the next morning.
It has been raining for two days non-stop now, they announced floods on the news. One reporter even said that the world was drowning in tears, tears because of the light feather-like drops of rain.
She was still there, same clothes, same position, but her white blouse was stained with blood. She was still smiling, though, right before she fainted.
I ran with my black umbrella and covered her face from the rain. Her deep blue eyes were opened but they were lost in a raging storm.
"Are you Ok?"
I leaned to her face, her lips were slit and swollen, her teeth were bathed in blood, one of them was chipped. Watery tiny red rivers escaped her overflowed mouth.
"I lost my umbrella," she said spitting drops of blood and pointing to the sky.
"Who did this to you?"
"I don't know," she said looking away from the sky.
"Where did he go?", I quickly assumed that some brute guy did it.
"I don't know. I just lost my umbrella", she repeated, and I thought that she was really loosing her mind.
"Where? Where did you loose it?"
And she pointed up. I don't know why I ventured out of the comforting shade of my umbrella, but I did. I looked up to the smoked sky, one single drop stung my eye… A black dot was dancing in the clouds. I blinked, I focused, the dancing dot was still floating in the air.
"Do you see it? It kinda looks like a flower, doesn't it? It blew away yesterday, when I was walking."
That's when I noticed the puddle of water where she was lying, and the halo of water made by the falling drops from the corners of my umbrella, I noticed the bareness of a nearby tree.
"Is that why you were smiling?" I asked.
The winds in her eyes dissipated, she looked directly into mine, almost like she looked through me, she gave a weak smile and said: "I was crying."
by: Joel Feliciano
© 2006
Subconsciously my mind wanted to capture the blooming of the dark umbrellas on film. That's why I brought my (digital) camera that day. The rain was thin and annoying, and the clouds were swirling in the sky. I was waiting for the bus with a bunch of people under a tent. Some raindrops were pounding on the leather of the roof.
I was busy taking pictures of the people walking from the tent to the bus, opening and closing their umbrellas, when I noticed her, on the sidewalk, her face towards the rain, her eyes closed in a trance, a smile on her face. I took a picture of her. The drops dripping from her bangles, her hands limp on her sides, her head thrown back facing the ashed sky, her clothes soaking wet, plastered on her breast, on her stomach, on her legs. I took another picture and then thought that there were a lot of crazy people in the world.
My bus arrived. I tucked my camera in my jacket. Grabbed my umbrella, pushed the little black button, (I'm always aware of these small details, sometimes I'm annoyed, my girlfriend says that that's the nature of photographers, I guess she's right). So yes, I also noticed how I shook the umbrella so it would extend and then bloom with a flapping noise. I noticed the bony, metallic structure of the inside, and the little drops of rain that bounced off the black fabric just before I set the umbrella over me. The same thing happened when I stepped in the bus, but in rewind.
Through the dropleted glass I watched her stading there, smiling at the sky, unmoved, unbothered by the sharp cold drops of rain.
I checked the pictures in my camera, a stern-face guy lifting his umbrella, the inside of the flower of another, and then her. She is so happy.
I was shocked the next morning.
It has been raining for two days non-stop now, they announced floods on the news. One reporter even said that the world was drowning in tears, tears because of the light feather-like drops of rain.
She was still there, same clothes, same position, but her white blouse was stained with blood. She was still smiling, though, right before she fainted.
I ran with my black umbrella and covered her face from the rain. Her deep blue eyes were opened but they were lost in a raging storm.
"Are you Ok?"
I leaned to her face, her lips were slit and swollen, her teeth were bathed in blood, one of them was chipped. Watery tiny red rivers escaped her overflowed mouth.
"I lost my umbrella," she said spitting drops of blood and pointing to the sky.
"Who did this to you?"
"I don't know," she said looking away from the sky.
"Where did he go?", I quickly assumed that some brute guy did it.
"I don't know. I just lost my umbrella", she repeated, and I thought that she was really loosing her mind.
"Where? Where did you loose it?"
And she pointed up. I don't know why I ventured out of the comforting shade of my umbrella, but I did. I looked up to the smoked sky, one single drop stung my eye… A black dot was dancing in the clouds. I blinked, I focused, the dancing dot was still floating in the air.
"Do you see it? It kinda looks like a flower, doesn't it? It blew away yesterday, when I was walking."
That's when I noticed the puddle of water where she was lying, and the halo of water made by the falling drops from the corners of my umbrella, I noticed the bareness of a nearby tree.
"Is that why you were smiling?" I asked.
The winds in her eyes dissipated, she looked directly into mine, almost like she looked through me, she gave a weak smile and said: "I was crying."
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