THE IMAGE

Click. Click. Click. The familiar sound of the camera's shutter comforts Jodie as she continues her pursuit of the perfect photo. What she doesn't know is how one particular image, on this one particular day, will affect the rest of her life.

The old man sits on the bench, his tired silhouette framed against the glow of the setting sun. His tattered sleeves brush against the bag of nuts he is doling out to the squirrels. He glances out to the lake to watch the sun set, its orb like a saucer tipped on its side; just one more sundown added to the ones too many to count in his life. From behind, he is but a shadow. He is oblivious to any around him, preferring his aloneness to the stifling closeness of the crowds. He is unaware that he is being watched.

Jodie stays in the shadows slowly being extinguished by the darkness rapidly descending. In a matter of seconds, she has captured him, the weather-worn creases in the hollows of his cheeks etched in the waning light.

The clear autumn day was ripe for her photography: the multi-colored leaves still clinging tenaciously to the branches of the trees, the chilling breeze breaking the glass surface of the lake. All day Jodie walked along the lakeside, snapping the azure blue sky with the clouds that seemed to float like swirls of whipped cream atop an ice cream sundae. She studied the boats on the lake, silhouetted like paper cut outs on a page. She captured the sun dappled patterns on the trees lining the shore. Click. Click. Click.

Jodie was a nature photographer by profession and was undertaking a series called Life on the Lake, her inspiration taken from Monet's series on haystacks which had so captivated her when she had seen the Impressionist Exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. It had sparked an idea of doing the same with her photography. She searched for months for the perfect subject and finally decided on the weather-worn bench which stood by the side of the lake. The past year of changing seasons resonated with her quest for the perfect project.

She had already witnessed its simplicity during the winter, the dusting of snow sprinkled like powdered sugar in her lens. Spring had seen it coated with blossoms blown down from the tree it gently nestled under. And the summer had bleached its chipped paint to an unrecognizable hue. She now resisted the urge to dust off the ever-falling leaves threatening to cover it up entirely.

She had already captured the bench in the morning and at midday. The approaching evening would give her a perspective she did not yet have.

She approached her subject, time of the essence, to catch the light before it sank beneath the horizon. But this time the bench wasn't empty; an old man had neatly folded himself in its curves. The poignancy of his profile stunned her. Her bench had absorbed a living soul.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath, disappointed that she might not get her perfect shot before the sun set completely. But something about the intruder gave her pause. She continued pointing her lens in his direction.

Stealthily, she crept to the other side of the trees to get a different view and focused in on the sadness painted all around him. Click. Click. Click. She captured the toll the years had taken on him. Life had not been kind to this man. Not wanting to be discovered, she hid behind a tree and continued to watch his movements. She had been to this bench many times and never seen him before. She wanted to approach him, but something inside told her to let him be. His need for privacy leaked out of his pores.

She continued to snap away, capturing stark reality against a backdrop of breathtaking beauty. Humanity juxtaposed against nature. Click. Click. Click. Each picture was better than the last. Still life suddenly ceased to be her focus. Her heart beat rapidly with excitement for the slice of life that had swept into her lens.