And that’s a Sting reference.
Moloz. That’s how they call that overrated area in Trabzon where you have a line of restaurants and cay ocagis along the seacoast. During the colder months, everything closes: the crude winds of the Black Sea bar every sane human being from strolling at the seaside. The only exception was an old man. I actually liked taking a walk in Moloz despite of the weather conditions, and it seemed like this old beggar will never move from his spot. No matter how cold or warm it was, he was always there, sitting on one of the steps, not really looking at anyone. He almost appeared to be just casually hanging around: he never asked for a dime, he’d never have a word to anyone. But the little pot in his hands gave him away. He seemed almost proud.
I actually never dared to take a photo of him. I have issues with pointing the lens into a stranger’s face, and in this exact situation it would be even less appropriate. Hey, just look at the camera with despair! That’s great! I love it! Nope. I can’t. But that day he was resting his head, turning it towards the highway. That was literally my only shot. I could have had a more personal feel to it with my tele (which was at home, of course) and as I tried to rush the exposition I accidentally tilted the horizontal lines of the steps a little.
It was not a matter of perfection but a matter of having some kind of proof of him: that he was sitting there everytime I’d go to Moloz.