A glance. A shrug. A girl pulls at her hair. Lost in themselves they ignore the bustle of the market around them. They ignore me, too. They face each other, looking inward towards the conversation that envelopes them. I listen to the cadence, the tones of their voices as they rise and fall.
Not hearing what they’re saying, I’m in my own world too. I make a photo of them. I try to grab a moment—an instant when three people are living in the present. Three people lost in the thoughts of each other. I think of times when I too was one of a group, part of something bigger than myself, alone. Faces come to me from times long gone.
The conversation continues as the women ignore me. Feeling lonely and left out, I shrug and move on. My fickle attention now turns to the red tomatoes, in season and looking better than the ones from the week before. A tomato sandwich! It becomes the singular object of my thoughts as I move on to the find the ingredients for my lunch. I leave the conversation, feeling it fade from the present and into my past.