“What the hell’s going on?”
At a small plaza two blocks from the station Freyja slipped off her backpack and dug out the Canon. Something sure as hell was going on. She could see it in the faces of the hundreds of people milling around. Expressions she wanted to capture with her camera.
What to do, where to go? Their morning commute, a daily routine which they undertook only half awake had been disrupted. Access had been denied to the offices and stores they worked at. They seemed confused and indecisive. Strangers had impromptu discussions. Individuals walked one way then turned and walked in the opposite direction. Heads turned, eyes darted. The atmosphere was one of consternation and uncertainty with an undertone of anxiety.
Freyja twisted the 18-55mm lens into position. The wide angle with a moderate zoom would do the job best. She adjusted the setting to auto with continuous exposures. This wasn’t a time to fuss. She focused and shot anxiety; focused and shot bewilderment; focused and shot fear.
Freyja’s heart pounded. It was a moment a photographer dreamed of; the right place, the right time. She checked her LCD monitor. Great! She twisted the zoom ring to wide angle and focused on knots of people – hunched shoulders, cowed heads, arms tight.
She needed to get closer to those soldiers positioned at the street barricades. She grabbed her backpack and walked toward them. The smell of diesel wafted up from a line of idling buses, all empty. The fwap, fwap, fwap of helicopter rotors hovered somewhere amongst the tall buildings.
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