The picture I didn't take

I'm rushing from Menimene, desperately trying to get to my next lesson on time, swearing that this time I won't be late no matter what they traffic is like. Damn, the cars in front of me slow down, meaning I have to once again weave through the semi-parked vehicles ahead. Suddenly, I see an old man in a wheel chair rolling down the middle of the dual carriageway, forcing cars to swerve left and right. I get off the bike and waving frantically at the oncoming traffic manage to get to the guy before he gets hit.

I have no idea what he's saying to me (some language I don't get) . All I understand through his gesturing is that he wants to get to the crossroads half a kilometre behind me. A group of four people sat idly next to their car on the other side of the road following the scene with a bored kind of curiosity. I curse them under my breathe, despising their polished indifference.

The picture I didn't take.

I'm not sure how it got there. Neatly stopped inside the fence next to a line of artillery pieces and trucks in khaki, the grey sports car looks insubstantial. Silly, even. The driver shouts explanations and denial into his phone; "The road was slippery. No, I wasn't speeding." The others outside the fence look on impassively. They don't believe him, either. The flapping section of the fence and the crumbled steel barrier tell another story. The base guards haven't turned up yet. I guess repelling intruders, even unintended ones wasn't on today's to do list.

Inspired by Unphotographable.com

The picture I didn't take

I wait for the bus on Lagadas, junkies hanging around, eyes flicking back and forth, hounding a guy who has his arm outstretched. Blood and wounds, probably from a razor. He dips down and places a empty ball point in his socks. The others gather around, shouting something I don't understand. Somebody brings a out a small bottle. Iodine, think and dabs the wound. They continue to shout, drawing stares and tuts from people at the bus stop. They know exactly what they are. I have my camera with me but I don't take it out. The tall one nervously clicking his Stanley knife puts me off, "You know I'm sick." he shouts, as he lifts up his hands in a gesture that is both apology and excuse. Besides the bus has come.

Inspired by Unphotographable.com