tragedy of the wit of the staircase

ultimate sharpness on this last one. That's what the Mamiya was born to do! These three were taken in Donald, a sketchy little farm town. I ordered a water at the tavern to wash down a burger, and a loudmouth at the other end hollered "oh get a beer!" Also, when I was taking the middle picture, this fellow was working on a van behind me. I was walking through a grass alley and his garage backed into it, facing the pictured window. I greeted him, and he said "Can I help you?" "Nah, just out taking some pictures." "Did you get permission to take pictures of that house?" "Nope." If you're on public land, you don't need permission to take pictures of anything. I kept this information to myself though. "I figured you didn't. They're not home, so you couldn't of." "..." "I just know their house has been robbed three times, so I keep my eye out." This guy was trying to be a good neighbor, but if I was going to rob their house, wouldn't I have wanted to know that they weren't home? I quickly clicked the button and was on my way, flushed. I felt the guy was at the edge of hostility, and I didn't want to be some Donaldine tourist casualty. Gun country, tire irons, etc. I didn't ask him if the robbers had ever been caught, and whether he figured they were faggy college boys or, you know, more likely, maybe they were small town tweakers. It didn't matter. The photo was rubbish and my pulse was going too quickly to correctly determine how to handle the highlights and shadows. And besides, quick comebacks have never been my forte. "I'll just skewer him on my blog." I thought. "Redneck."

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