Photography works in a mysterious ways. Some photographers are good at shooting naked ladies, others are good at shooting rusted nails. I do belong to the latter category, but as luck would have it, I had my chance to shoot a supermodel once.
I met her the next morning we arrived for our week long escape to the Forgotten Coast. I was sipping a cup of freshly brewed Ceylon tea and was flipping through a local newspaper on the spacious deck of the condo we have rented, when I felt that I was watched. I slowly turned my head. She was sitting on the railing, staring at me without a blink.
"Oh, hello there," I said with a softer-then-velvet voice. She didn't even move a muscle. As a true Southern gentleman, I showered her with compliments, admiring her shiny emerald skin, her elegant tail, her beautiful eyes… I had no shortage for the "sweethearts", the "darlings", the "sweeties"…She was really enjoying my admiration, curving her body and turning her head, as to hear me better.
My tea was getting cold. I took a sip. When I looked back, the rail was empty.
Next morning was the exact copy of this one, only this time I had my camera near the cup of tea.
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