stories from the city; damon albarn

20- fucking c

Her heart beat was getting louder by the second. He was looking in her eyes, but in a droopy way. It was a look of sadness. She could tell that much.

"Tell me, why do you like photography so much?"

It was off topic.

But a deep question nonetheless.

"Everyone seems to have a talent. My dad is the Maxis Erlich. Mum is a painter. Brother is a musician, sister a model and other brother is a phenomenal comedian. I needed something. And it felt like everything was taken up.

When you're born into what feels like birthright, you feel the need to try something new. You don't want to disappoint anyone. And I can't disappoint them."

It begins to all seep out of the cracks.

"With photography, it lets me stay behind the camera. I don't have to pose, or be eccentric or someone else. I'm not being captured on film, and I get to control the narrative. The hold of a camera lets me focus. I feel in control."

"Do you like it?"

She nods her head. "I do. I do I swear. But sometimes I don't. I wonder what it's like to be good enough for a stage, or a runway. All of that junk." She admits

"I bet you'd be great at it. You're able to transfer feeling onto film so well. You're able to get models to express what you want..You're transcribing emotion already."

"If only I could do it another format." She jokes

His eyes widen "You could! Chloe that's what I'm saying."

She grins "And you should take up photography. Make some extra bucks doing a tour diary."

"I'll leave the photography to Graham. That's more of his thing than mine." He admits, shrugging his shoulders.

They stare at one another for a few minutes, the weight on their shoulders felt like it had been thrown away, instead, in its place was a wave of dedication and appreciation. They'd expressed what hadn't seen said in years.

"What does your room look like? Does it have a dark room?" He asks, scooting closer to her.

"No. But I have a studio elsewhere too. But, I do keep a majority of my old and new work there."

"Can I see?"

She nods, standing up and taking his hand firmly, not quite thinking of the actions that would go along with it and she begins to lead him down the hall towards her bedroom, pushing open the paneled door to reveal her bedroom.

It was huge, a large canopy bed in the center of it all, chiffon fabrics hanging around and off of it. The closet door seemed wide open, and provided a peak into the stacks of shoes and clothes.

The walls, had paint splattered all over and were covered with posters, and prints of photographs both new and old. It was easy to tell how marvelous the original walls of the home had been, but it was more incredible how they'd been destroyed and altered over time.

Chloe dashed to one of the big wardrobes in the room and began pulling out envelopes and photo albums, the earliest ones dating from the year 1970

Some of these weren't even photos she'd taken, they were photos of her father and his friends, some of them contained her and her siblings with him and these friends.

The first one, everyone usually loved.

It was a photo of Paul McCartney with Chloe on his shoulders, she was a toddler. It had been taken at some farm in Sweden, on some magical trip that had happened ages ago.