Tonight, suddenly, Saul Leiter. Then, you.
I remembered the night when in my dream, I misspelt Saul as Seul. Lonely, alone. Single. Only. In another vertical dream, a man walked into my bedroom with a pink umbrella but he had a fog instead of a face and we danced and we danced on the rain soaked streets of New York before you suddenly stopped a yellow taxi and now all I remember is your hand and the white shirt that you were wearing and the streets of Calcutta where once you had stopped to photograph a man’s face when all I could see was the shape of his hands against that damaged wall and that was when I knew our love would end.
Tonight, suddenly, a dream. I stop to photograph your face but the camera won’t click.
Saudamini Deo was born in Jaipur and has spent most of her time living between cities. Currently in Delhi. She writes, and takes photographs.