One early morning in Haji Ali, I saw this street dweller with her pet parrot. The lady had barely enough for herself, but the parrot seemed well fed and cared for.
I thought the lady might be a commercial sex worker. I found myself staring, almost as if I was looking for clues to her life. What was I looking for? I don't know...her possessions were pitiful. I felt guilty photographing her poverty, invading her privacy. I wonder if this is how some journalists feel, like trespassers.
I thought the lady might be a commercial sex worker. I found myself staring, almost as if I was looking for clues to her life. What was I looking for? I don't know...her possessions were pitiful. I felt guilty photographing her poverty, invading her privacy. I wonder if this is how some journalists feel, like trespassers.
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