The Gallery...

By Northstar

As Karin and her three friends walked into the Rogue’s Gallery on Front St. they were struck by the absence of color. Everywhere they looked they were met with the stark white walls that were graced with unframed photographs. And the photographs themselves were unique in that they were all devoid of color. For black was not really a color. They had heard about this showing and as Tracy was an avid photographer we decided to check it out while she, Chris and Allyson were visiting Toronto.

A woman came around the corner at the far end of the room and even she was devoid of all color.. Her white dress was in sharp contrast to her ebony skin. She was a striking looking woman as she made her way over to where we were standing.

"Hello. My name is Shandra and I want to welcome you to my showing." she said as she extended her hand in greeting. She then handed us a catalog for us to browse through.

We returned her greeting and introduced ourselves. She then told us to make ourselves at home and enjoy the show as she turned to greet more newcomers.

We started with the first picture, which was so simplistic that it only had one subject as the focus of the photo. It depicted a little girl down on her knees with her hands raised in front of her, her face uplifted, as if she were praying. The background of the picture was just a bare wall and nothing else gave a clue as to where the child was.

Moving on to the next picture, I was so moved that I could do nothing but stare at it. It was of a homeless man laying on a park bench covered with a blanket of newspapers. You could see his worn-out shoes peaking out from underneath the end of his makeshift blanket. There was a hole worn through where his big toe had pushed against it’s tight fit on the right one. You could tell they were mismatched as one of the shoes had laces and the other one didn’t. He had made himself a hat of sorts from his supply of newsprint to try and keep the warmth inside. As he lay curled there you could only wonder at the circumstances that put him there. Huddled against the cold, with his hands folded in such a way that you knew, even though you couldn’t see, that they were stuck under his arms for whatever warmth he could gather from his body. You could almost see that he was shivering underneath the layers. You could tell it was autumn from the dusting of the leaves underneath the bench and could only imagine the nights getting colder as winter approached.

I didn’t know how long I had been standing there until Chris touched my shoulder to indicate that they were ready to move on to the next photograph. I turned to her with tears in my eyes.

"You know, I feel so much for people that have no where else to go like that man there. I wonder if he has a place to go to when the nights turn colder and the snow starts falling. I wonder how he got there in the first place and if he has a family that misses him."

"Yes, I know how you feel Karin." Chris responded. "I often ask myself the same questions whenever I see the homeless asking for handouts."

"It is sad isn’t it?" Allyson stated. " I know there are shelters and such out there for them, but I certainly don’t envy anyone who has the need for them."

"Yes, it is." I agreed as I let Chris guide me to the next picture. This one was of a puppy getting a bath. There were a little girl wielding a hose with a spray of water coming out of it and getting, as much, it seemed on the little boy who was holding the dog in the tub, as she was getting on the dog.

After making the rounds and viewing all the photographs, I once again found myself standing in front of the man on the bench. I had forgotten to see what it was titled. I glanced down and there saw only one word.

Dad??

Northstar