WALK ALONG TO ANOTHER DAY. open

[BENJAMIN SCOTT LOCKHART.]

i like songs about drifters ---------- *

BOOKS ABOUT THE SAME, THEY BOTH MAKE ME FEEL A LITTLE LESS INSANE.
- - - walked on off to another spot. - - -
I STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANYWHERE THAT I WANT.

Gossip, bad talking, and making out… the back of a taxi cab sure as heck got some of the strangest of attention sometimes and even after years of driving the cab around the driver still had some trouble keeping his eyes pried away from certain activities going on in the back. And no, you couldn’t just shout at him for being nosy. By all means he had the right just to go ahead and call you out on spilling that sort of thing out in front of a stranger in a vehicle made to transport the public. It was your own fault for being so… open? Whatever, the point was that as a cab driver you saw a lot of weird things and got a lot of nasty comments if yours eyes even so much as glanced toward the back of the vehicle. It was a job for someone with a lot of patience he supposed. That was something that he didn’t always have with him. It was a trait that was surely not built into his mindset. He always wanted to be just the opposite of patient. Hurry up… that was what he was usually thinking. Hurry up and get your business done with so he could keep going with his.

Thankfully one of his few customers for the day decided to be pleasant. The woman even attempted to strike up a sweet, little conversation with him. The only problem with that was that he wasn’t so sweet and delicate with his speech. For starters it seemed that his American accent made some people wrinkle their noses and say something about him being from the states. Then, of course, he sort of naturally had a rough vibe about him that made people just… not really be sure about him? Well, that was what his dad had always told him. Chill out. He had heard those words uttered from that man’s lips so many times that he couldn’t even count them. Just chill out, Benjamin.

Benjamin. He hated when someone spoke his full name. It made him feel like a little boy getting scolded. That was why his dad always used it. Benjamin.

His mind continued wandering in and out of thoughts of his first name and how much he despised hearing the ring of the whole thing. All the while the woman in the back babbled away, pointing out the window and asking a question here and there. She got a slow reply every now and then. He was sure she got the idea that he wasn’t paying much attention to her. She had to have seen that his eyes were clouded with thought; hardly concentrating on the road. Was that bad if you were a driver? Probably was.

Ben’s lips pressed together uncomfortably as he forced a smile on just to please the perky passenger in the back. She was a tourist she had said. She wanted to shop around the market to find things to take back home to her family. She was so excited about it. He wished that he could be half that cheery about being here. But maybe being here everyday had just sort of worn him down at this point. And hauling tourists all around the small community who constantly went on about how excited they were and showed up with their cameras and maps had managed to kind of make him more and more uninterested in staying. But this was life now. And he would deal with it. Could he really do any better than this? No, he probably could not.

Finally the market was in his view and the excited woman removed herself from the vehicle, giving him his pay, and then skipping off to have a look around.

Ben stayed parked at the side of the road, his hands quickly putting the money in its proper place. Hazel eyes turned upright, gazing into the rearview mirror, searching for some potential customers… or maybe just looking for anything to keep his mind busy for a little while. Anything interesting would be so awesomely amazing. Sometimes this humdrum life he led was just a little too humdrum. He had moved from another country completely. You’d think that he would maybe be a little more adventurous and excited? No. He was a little homesick though. But what was new about that? Nothing.

WORD COUNT, 729
TAG, YEAH, TO WHOEVER WANTS TO PLAY AHAHA.
SONG, THE WORLD AT LARGE - MODEST MOUSE
NOTES, FIRST IC POST =D KINDA RUSTY...

[DEMELZA KENDRA MCGUIRE]

every moment that is
STOLEN, IT CAN NEVER BE REPLACED



BENJAMIN LOCKHART , 627 WORDS , CLOTHING , COMPLETE

the camera around her neck made her feel at home regardless of where she happened to be at the time. It was a safety net of sorts. It was strange that an individual could feel so attached to an object, but for Demelza, her camera was almost an extension of her body. It was rare that she went somewhere without it. The weight of it around her hands and familiar feel of it raised to her face so she could snap a picture was a sensation that she had grown so used to that she felt lonely when she has gone too long without it. It was like a friend had deserted her; or how she felt when she first moved from New York to Liguria. Not many people understood the attachment that she had to the item.

naturally, it was around her neck as she moved through the market. Occasionally, she would raise the camera to her face and snap a shot of something or someone. The last picture she had taken was of an aged Italian couple. The pair must have been in their late sixties. They were hand in hand, looking into each other’s eyes. The woman was laughing while the man smiled down on her. Many would have thought the sight disturbing, but she saw the love in their eyes and thought the pair adorable. It wasn’t often that a relationship lasted as long as the one she had just captured on film. She may not have had the permission of the couple, but she was not planning to use it anywhere. It was something she was planning to keep to herself or one that she would add to her portfolio the next time she was applying for some work. After gazing at the couple for a moment longer, she moved on – camera still in hand – searching for something, anything, that would make for a good picture.

instead, interruption came. Her phone rang and her grandmother’s voice was the one she heard when she picked up. Demelza had quickly become close to her grandparents. They were understanding of her desire to learn about Italy and gave her the freedom she needed while still be actively involved in her life. The blonde had a lot of respect for the older couple who were doing a great job of taking care of her. They never asked her for anything, but she gave them as much as she could. It wasn’t often that they accepted it, so instead she took to doing a lot of jobs around the house to make up for her staying there free of charge. It had been a change from the life she had lived with her father in New York, but it was a positive changed. It still felt new to her, even after three years and had yet to bore her and become repetitive. Every day felt like a chance to be someone new, to discover new things and meet new people.

she hung up her phone after receiving instructions to return home for a surprise. It was a bit more difficult than that as her grandfather had driven her to the market and she had left her own vehicle at home. She scanned the market, a taxi catching her eye.

it was an immediate reaction to move over to it and slip into the backseat. She told him her address and then added, “How has your day been? Have you been busy?” in Italian. She assumed that he would be a native who was more comfortable with the foreign language rather than someone who spoke English. She toyed with the camera in her hand as she settled into the backseat and waited for a response to her question.

( this was a horrid post. the next one will be so much better. )

[BENJAMIN SCOTT LOCKHART.]

i like songs about drifters ---------- *

BOOKS ABOUT THE SAME, THEY BOTH MAKE ME FEEL A LITTLE LESS INSANE.
- - - walked on off to another spot. - - -
I STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANYWHERE THAT I WANT.

His elbow now fell against the frame of the rolled down window, and he leaned his body up toward the car door. Benjamin’s eyes had moved from the rear-view mirror to now searching around outside of his cab, his eyes simply traveling over all of the different people that the market had to offer his sight today. He tried to pick out the residents from the tourists, his eyes looking for overexcited people with digital cameras. His ears listened for any language other than the native language of his small place he now called home. For a moment he closed his eyes while resting his forehead on his fingertips. He simply listened now to the hustle and bustle of the area, listening for anything that got his attention. This could be his little break. It was just a small time to smell the smells of the market and a time to hear the sounds of the people at the market. A break every now and then was always nice. But business was always nicer.

Footsteps were drawing nearer and he began to suspect a possible passenger. This thought was confirmed when he heard the door handle pull open followed by the door slamming shut. Then, of course, there were directions to a residence. Another sweet feminine voice flooded the cab as Benjamin forced himself to come back to life and straighten up in the driver’s seat. Eyes half awake again and hands placed firmly on the steering wheel. He offered the girl a half nod, confirming that he had got it down in his head. Then he pulled off.

Italian: the language that the platinum blond was speaking. He could understand it far better than he could ever speak it. His somewhat plain and drawn out Californian accent always seemed to yell out at these people. Regardless he gave the young woman in the backseat a single worded reply to that: “Slow.”

It answered both questions, he thought to himself. How had his day been so far? Well if you couldn’t guess by the look on his face… and had he been busy? Was he ever super busy around here? Just busy enough to get by usually. But more and more people seemed to be becoming attracted to visiting this little place so in all honesty he had been busier than usual. That did not make his work go by any faster, of course.

By using the rear-view mirror Benjamin caught a few quick looks at the girl. Her hair was bright and her skin seemed light up against the darker shades of her clothing. Her eyes were masked behind a pair of sunglasses and he couldn’t really help but notice the camera that was hanging around her thin neck. It made him quirk a brow to himself as he turned his eyes back down toward the road.

Either she used that thing for a living or was visiting. Those were his first thoughts. But then of course more of the guessing game started to pile on and he was assuming things from tourist to art student to a school girl just going out to take some photographs of people and things and whatever else it was that people like her to pictures of. He really wasn’t sure. He wasn’t exactly the artistic or creative type after all. If he was then he probably would not have been driving a cab around all day.

Again Benjamin glanced up at the rear-view mirror to look at her. “Photographer?” It was another quick single worded piece of conversation for her to work with. Oh well, it was really better than his usual nods and grunts. And hopefully it would either start her with babbling on about something or close off their conversation with one another comfortably. His life was rather dull so if she asked him anything back he was sure that he would just lull her to sleep. Hey, that was an idea wasn’t it? Maybe he should start doing all the talking. Then he wouldn’t have to listen to constant chatter when it got rather annoying. Why hadn’t that idea struck him in the past?

Ben’s nose wrinkled a bit as he looked back once again.

“What sort of things do you take pictures of?”

He was careful with his words, his speech rather slow but not completely unsure. He had been here for what- five years? It could have been four… but he lost his count. So he did know the language. He just didn’t really know it inside and out. He was still just a confused newcomer at times, he supposed. But that was alright. He’d get out of here one day.

WORD COUNT, 784
TAG, WOOT! DEMELZA FTW.
SONG, THE WORLD AT LARGE - MODEST MOUSE
NOTES, YOURS WAS FINE, SILLY!

[DEMELZA KENDRA MCGUIRE]

every moment that is
STOLEN, IT CAN NEVER BE REPLACED



BENJAMIN LOCKHART , 751 WORDS , CLOTHING , COMPLETE

the moment his reply came, she knew that he was not originally from Italy. His Italian – spoken well – had an unfamiliar accent accompany the single word. Demelza did not make any comment about it initially. It was probably something that he got confronted about often. The blonde recalled how people would question her speech when she has first moved to Italy. Her accent had been off, although it had soon become second nature to her because of her age when moving here and how familiar she had been with the language already. Although she was curious about the location of his birth – as she was unable to place the accent to a specific region with the US – she kept her questions to herself.

his next question resulted in her eyes dropping to her camera. She did not think he would have really noticed. However, she was happy about the conversation starter. Her mouth had opened to reply as another question left his lips. She did not fail to notice the slow, almost cautious, way in which he spoke and she hesitated. Would it be better to revert to English to make the conversation between them easier? While it could be appreciated by the unknown man in front of her, it could also be taken as an insult. She was cautious about rubbing people the wrong way as she was not a fan of conflict. She did not like it and would rather deal with his caution than with his wrath. However, she decided to take a chance and when she next spoke, it was in English. “Yeah, I’m a photographer. Have been for quite a while, although there’s no steady work. I’m not really interested in fashion or posed photos in general.” That was probably more than what he had wanted to hear, though she didn’t really give it much thought. The blonde was a naturally a chatty person and it took a lot for her to cease speaking. She did, however, pause for a moment and pushed her hair from her face before lifting her sunglasses and placing them a top her head. There was really no need for them while she was inside his cab.

his next question took a moment for her to formulate a response to. “Um... people mostly. I like to catch natural moments on film. It’s just small things that a lot of people would overlook, but I guess I just try to capture the beauty in humanity as, more often than not, it’s the horrors that are portrayed everywhere; on the news, on movies, in TV shows.” It did not occur to her how idiotic her response may have sounded. She had been informed numerous times that her reasons for becoming a photographer had been called childish, immature or stupid. It sounded naive, or overly optimistic, but she was a firm believer of the beauty in people, even if their exterior suggested that none existed.

after speaking, she wondered whether it would be appropriate to ask him something about himself. She knew that it was common for those who worked with people to question their customers. It kept them happy and may tempt them to leave a tip. Demelza could deal with that, but she’d leave the cab with a sense of guilt knowing that all she had talked about had been herself. She decided to take a chance and if he showed some kind of resentment towards her for asking, she would quickly drop it. “So where are you from? With the accent and all,” she added calmly, her tone suggesting that it was only a simple question.

demelza felt an urge to add the fact that she was also an American to the conversation, but she was unsure if that would be information that was relevant. Even if she was having subtle protests, her mouth opened and words emerged. “I’m from New York originally.” It was simple and hopefully something that would put him more at ease about his nationality; if he was uncomfortable with it, of course. Some people were proud to be living in a foreign country. It was something that Demelza was proud of. She did not want to continue to live in a familiar place. She wanted to move around, but was unsure of where she could venture next. Knowing her, it would probably be somewhere like Paris. She had always wanted to visit, but had never been bothered to begin studying French so she could move there.

( i kinda ran out of ideas about what she could talk about. )