Photo Story: Everything to Me
The bristles of the broom were degrees of red and pink, accumulated over the years from the slow push towards the drain in the center of the room. An infinitesimal grade designed to lend gravity a hand. The slow, steady push of the butcher. Bleach and chlorine in the air. End of the day, every day. The weekend with his daughter, her favorite restaurant, falsetto voice playing together with her dolls. Before she grows up, gets feisty, argues about body jewelry and who she wants to date.
She waits while he sweeps. Hums softly. Hops the squares in the front.
Photographer: Robbie Sproule
What is the meaning of the image?
My eye first interpreted it as a bug on the floor which led to the image of a checkboard floor and the idea of ritual sweeping. The great thing about a photo prompt is you never know where it’s going to take you.
Nice response. I had the same question. It’s interesting how the brain processes a photograph into a story that seemingly doesn’t fit the picture. I completely understand your process, as I do the same thing. You summed up this man’s life in 100 words, not an easy task. Nice job.
Thank you so much, Lisa! Look forward to reading your flash fiction on the site. Keep writing, keep dreaming.