He entered my studio for his sitting without a sound. I was immediately intrigued by his appearance. I had not been told what he would look like, only that he would be coming.

His was old and worn, ravaged by time in it's most unkind fashion. Yet, traces of the beauty he had once possessed in his youth still showed through the wrinkles and scars. His face, marred with the memories of seeing loved ones die before him, was so calm and serene. It made him look far wiser than I could have ever dreamed. I felt like a mere child standing before him.

He found an old flower in my props, while I feebly tried to thank him for coming and explain what the customer wanted of him, seemingly not hearing me at all. He gazed at it with such a look on his face that immediately any demands the customer had of me (or him!) were completely pointless. I knew in that moment that my duty was not to them or their money but to capture this amazing man as best as a photographer can ever catch such an immense moment on film. He gingerly sat down, still off in his own world and possibly unaware of even my existence in the room, and stared at the flower.

While I may never know what he was thinking, looking at that sad old dried flower, I began to think that in it he saw perhaps himself. Once a beautiful and desired object, now just a sad, passed-over discard at the bottom of a box. And he will never know how much, even though our meeting was no more than a breeze in time, I admired and was inspired by him. His beauty, his grace. I had not before nor ever since had any such subject in front of my camera and I doubt I may ever again.

He died a couple of days later.

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Story I came up with after standing around this guy for about 5 minutes, just admiring and photographing him.

Photo and story © mizutamari