Much to my amusement, I have perfected the pretense of rebuking the local paparazzi.
It was inevitable; when even the tight spot between the asparagus and succulents didn't hinder the resident photog. Turnaround is fair play.
It must be these baby blues that transforms My Own into a human snake; slithering, sneaking on her belly to get within inches of me, her irresistible quarry, and that perfect shot.
As unnerving as it might seem, I never lose control of the situation. For her, I feign chagrin. For her, I display a mere measure of displeasure. I make her work for these Caribbean-colored eyes.
Encroach upon my space? My eyes close in reflexive meditation. Here’s the downcast look of boredom. Or, a sideways glance as if something caught my attention. Oops, I turned my head unexpectedly. What? You did not want a profile? My bad.
Always, when the chase is on, I become an alluring carnival game. And, always, I control the opportunity and outcome. Step up, take a chance. Try. Fail. Reload. Repeat. Until at last, I permit moment and success to entwine.
Timed manipulation is like photographic composition - balance is crucial. And the paparazzi, though slightly soiled, is no worst for wear.
