tweaked and revisited.
the door shut and the chub locked, by habit, from the outside. i was locked in, stuck, in a friend’s apartment, in brixton, alone but for a half bottle of red wine and wogan. it was new year’s eve 1989. my date had driven his landlord to a party vowing to return before midnight. he did not. quickly becoming bored with the tv and, being nosy by inclination, i decided to snoop thru his landlord’s archives.
the landlord was a photographer, mostly of naked boys, barely out of their teens, as was i then, for british ‘soft’ pornographic magazines. he made his money however, taking society shots of the dressed and famous, for the glossy magazines and daily social and gossip columns. i found two pictures i really liked.
the photographs were a pair of 8″x10″‘s black and white on gloss paper, taken at some swell dinner in new york. i…
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