At the bottom of the steps from the bridge over the Metro Link and Forest Park Parkway, a shopping bag sat, with a pair of light brown leather shoes at the top. It was Deja vu all over again, I thought. I seem to have a knack for finding the strange. The scent of a cologne was lingering by the bag. I looked around to see who was near, and there didn’t seem to be an owner in the vicinity, so I snapped a photo and thought about what to do next. Then Anthony appeared. Looking rather like a mediterranean hobbit with his curly dark hair, dark brown eyes, olive complexion, bare feet and walking stick, he had a certain waifish look about him.
He told me of his leaving Michigan on a spiritual pilgrimage to California, of his car breaking down in Saint Louis (that’s happened to me as well, that Saint Louis automobile-go-kaput thing), of working several jobs (cook, bank teller, etc) to pay for a “nice apartment”, and of his ultimate decision to seek the spiritual by communing with nature in Forest Park (I told you this is an endlessly interesting place). We talked for a while, I gave him one of my cards and excused myself to get back to the studio and catch up on my writing (you may have noticed that although I’ve been out every single day in the park, I haven’t always been posting immediately), and that is mostly what I did, after I stopped several times on the way to my car to capture more photons.