"Hey, thanks for meeting up with me on such short notice," comes the cheerful greeting. Behind him is a stuffed backpack with bits and pieces peeking out, slung in front is a well-used equally stuffed camera bag, and by his side he holds his walking cane.
"I've got a surprise for you," he grins as we settle into the wooden chairs at the chinese restaurant. He whips out the battered body of a Fujifilm camera and sticks it in my face. Rapid snaps. Then he's taking out wires and an instax printer while I grab the camera and fiddle with the many dials. "Here, now you've got something tangible to remember." Two polaroids. He says it very matter-of-fact-ly, as if that's his way of making things count in the same way I do with postcards. It's nice being on the receiving end.
We talk about other people, about preferring to be behind the camera, about the cultural differences between the US and Singapore, about collecting fats for the winter, and enjoy bouts of comfortable silence over piping hot beef noodle soup. It's a quick lunch, and also the highlight of my day.
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