A series of recollections about the Why behind the photo. The fragments and questions that come with it. All at once or one after the other. The story seeds that follow before and after the photograph is made.
First comes the smell. Pungent and salty. Then the man, his face hidden behind the stall and it makes me think of all the other faceless people who prepare the food we buy.
It’s afternoon when I make the picture and I don’t know how long he’s been there. He doesn’t come there every day. Maybe it’s just a part time job. What else does he do the rest of the week? Does he have a family? Kids?
Through the viewfinder I notice the reds and the blues that repeat themselves along the frame, foreground and background, in layers. His hands, protected by plastic red gloves now look like claws, for he himself is turning into a fish. Behind him, the woman with oyster hair thinks about a dream she had last night.