One Click
What would you do if a man took a photograph of you without your permission?
I was siting in a train carriage, minding my own business – and some of Lisa’s, the friend who was with me – when I just happened to glance out of the window as another train glided past. We were leaving a station, so both trains were going slowly, slow enough for a man just a few feet away from me in the neighbouring train to raise a camera for a second and take a photograph of me.
I didn’t see him. He was just an arm, some dark hair and a bright flash. Then he was gone.
“Maybe he was a model scout?” My good friend, Lisa. Even at 18, I wouldn’t have believed this. At 49, the moment for being model-scouted has definitely passed. I feel strangely violated, as though he’s snapped off a little piece of me and run away with it. What did he want the photo for?
