I’ve googled that phrase “old men from around the world” a few times lately and nothing really pops up in images. I really thought someone would have taken this idea I have already and ran with it.
I want to make a coffee table book of pictures of little old men around the world. I’ve started to take pictures in the cities I go to and on the days I snap a few of older gents that seem to capture the essence of the country or city I’m visiting, I’m quite tickled with myself.
The thing about little old men is that they congregate. They get together every afternoon on park benches or by fountains or on stoops and then sit, all lined up, talking to each other about God knows what but I bet whatever it is, it’s a great conversation.
And they dress up to do it. They wear shirts and ties and coats and vests and hats and canes and shoes with buckles and pants with patches. They bring canes and cigars or pipes. They drink turkish tea or black coffee and they sit and they watch and they talk.
Little old men have a lifetime of things to share that you can see in depths of their eyes, in the deep wrinkles in their faces, the calluses in their hands, their laugh lines, their gray hairs, their slow walks, their silent nods.
Here are a few pictures that I took with this in mind in Greece and Turkey.
This was him when he saw me staring at him. Could be he was pissed at me, or annoyed that his wife was yelling and waving a broom around causing a scene.
It’s the people I’ve met around the world and the moments I’ve shared with people nothing like me that I cherish the most. I just need to be sure to capture more photos and more memories like these. I’ll one day forget all the details of the crazy stories about beer fest and the time we got lost in the Alps and all the other random fun things I’ve done but the people, I’ll never be able to forget the people.