From the back of a bike cab on a ride through Amsterdam, I saw this chap out of the corner of my eye and swung my camera into action. Four seconds, if that. I don't know this guy, and I don't think he noticed me, but for the brief moment I saw him, I felt I was a member of an indomitable and ultimately pretty okay species. From his bearing I got the impression he was alone. No family, few who cared about him. Used to being passed by and ignored. His hat and scarf and heavy coat, even in the (admittedly modest) height of Dutch summer might point to his being sick, if he felt so cold as to arm himself against it. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he was just waiting for his grand kids to drop by. Maybe he's a foreigner, a Moroccan or a Bosnian who, in his old age, finally decided to take the plunge and live his lifelong dream of a travel adventure in Amsterdam. Either way, though. Seeing his face, that cheeky smile, that acceptance and delight of all the troubles and wonders the world has heaped on him...
I think we'd all be well served by seeing the world through his eyes for a little while. - Alex
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