I never seem to stop having unusual experiences.
I attract perverts and strange encounters like a moth to a flame.
I've been trying to post at least three photos per day on G+ (morning/afternoon/evening). Some days it doesn't happen, but it's my current goal since I have a chunk of new photography-enthused followers.
(Unrelated aside: If you follow me on G+ please let me know you're there so I can follow you back. I often miss people in my notifications, but if you let me know you're there I'll make sure to follow you back!)
I've recently had a lot of technical problems and sometimes, if I'm rushing, I don't have a lot of time to pull out my external hard drives and find the photo I want.
So – I've been taking a lot of new shots. (That's my excuse anyway!)
The other day I decided to take a walk with my camera in my neighborhood.
Remember, I live in a canyon – lots of unexpected critters to come across, etc.
I noticed the cacti were bearing fruit. They looked so pretty in a cactus sorta way. I was on a little back road in the canyon and it was eerily silent.
Kind of creepy really.
I expected a mountain lion to suddenly appear and eat me. (It has happened before here – not that far from my house.)
I was having a silent tug-of-war in my mind:
Internal Voice #1: Take your time, take lots of photos.
Internal Voice #2: OMG – get out of here fast! THERE'S NO ONE AROUND. You will get eaten by a mountain lion and no one will ever know where you went or what happened to you.
Do you ever have conversations about mountain lions eating you inside your head?
Anyway, it was right about then I noticed some pretty yellow flowers along the road.
I had a wide angle lens on my camera and I just couldn't get a good shot of them –
So I layed down in the middle of the eerily quiet, totally deserted, road.
I was there for awhile.
I was concentrating very hard, because I was having a difficult time getting the angle I wanted.
Out of nowhere,
There was a truck behind me and a group of Hispanic men talking frantically and the word "muerto" (or something like that) kept being said.
My immediate thought was, "I'm about to be run over by a truck."
I scrambled to get up, and out of the way, as fast as possible.
As I was doing so, I realized the truck had actually just stopped a few feet behind me.
When I jumped up, the men inside it looked startled and frightened.
That's when the word "muerto" sunk the rest of the way into my brain.
In Spanish, muerto means dead.
Apparently the men inside the truck thought they had come across a dead woman in the middle of the street.
A dead woman, in the middle of a deserted street, clutching a camera in her dead hands.
After their initial shock, the men seemed relieved they didn't have to deal with a dead body.
I was a little flustered by the encounter myself …
First, thinking I was about to be run over by a truck –
And then hearing I was actually dead in the middle of the street.
© Twenty Four At Heart