the lost man chronicles
Somewhere in Jersey
I really had little to no idea as to where we were in the state I live in because I had been picked up at 6 a.m. and an hour later I was on site—wholly oblivious, after being immersed in my reading for the entire ride.
We went for day long meetings and then for cocktails and dinner. After I felt I had put in sufficient face time and made my rounds of toasts with all the thirsty fish, I ventured alone off into the dark yonder of Nowhere New Jersey.
I arrived a half an hour into the cocktail reception because I believe people are generally a lot more interesting after they’ve had a few drinks in them.
The theory held true this evening, especially as the night sank into twilight and the comforts of abandon and darkness that off-site and overnight meetings tend to engender.
A couple of colleagues brought their fancy, fully-loaded and expensive cameras with them. Because I know them to be photo buffs for a mere moment I entertained the idea of sharing my own work with them.
“Nah,” I concluded considering that I work for a highly conservative company and thus I decided it was best to keep this wild (and sometimes cool) cat in the bag.
I thought it would be especially prudent considering my self-portrait experiment.
Not your average highly dignified portrayal of oneself.
So, I thought it to be best to merely share them with the open-minded and art-oriented community that is flickr.
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