The address

The bicycle repair man invited me for tea and peanuts as I was photographing the scenery. He wrote down his address as a title for one of my 40 artist books, when we sat there, together with his wife, overlooking the traffic. Lot's of people know and greet him as they pass by. The day the book was printed I passed there again. I had the freshly printed books with me and showed him the book with his 'title' written on it. He laughed, pointing at his shop: a garage across the street. He was obviously pleased. Then he hurried back, because a customer arrived. I sat there with his wife for a while, using my iPhone to translate. She couldn't read I guess, for a younger man, also sitting with us, interpreted. She looked in the book. Special interest went out to the photographs taken nearby, as she recognized the area.

When we said goodbye in a friendly way, no differences of any kind mattered.


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