The photo album, the boat, the Polaroid camera, and their owner.
The Atlas of Curiosities: Part 28
“I’m nearly 80, if you can believe that,” she said, stepping out of the boat. Under her arm she was carrying a thick book, and around her neck was strung an old Polaroid camera.
She walked slowly, thinking about each step.
“I hardly walk,” she said.
We offered her an arm, to steady her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m so glad you were here to meet me.”
“Someone always comes to meet me,” she said. “It’s the strangest thing.”
She wore a blue dress with a lace collar. On her feet she had old black heels
As we walked up the boardwalk the boat began to drift, as she had not tied it down. It followed behind her, like a loyal dog.
“I’ll just get some more film, then I am on my way,” she said.
We walked into a convenience store, and she went to the counter to enquire about film.
We stood back watching.
“How does she speak the language here?” we wondered. We certainly did not. She returned to us.
“Ok,” she said. “All set.”
She slowly began hobbling out of the store.
“Where will you be going?” we asked her. We had seen her drift into this harbor with no sail, now paddle, and no motor. Now it seemed she intended to climb back into her boat and drift off again.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Wherever this boat takes me. See?”
She passed us the book that she had been carrying. We opened it. Inside was page after page of Polaroid photos, in brilliant colors and stunning composition, which flowed from one into the next as night follows day.
“That’s 60 years,” she said.
The photos were from everywhere. We recognized the landmarks of the Mediterranean coast, the script of the peoples of the Red Sea, the lush tropical foilage of Asia.
She used our arm to climb into the boat, even as we rushed to take an account of all that had been in that book, all that had been seen in 60 years on a tiny boat.
“You just sit there?” we asked her.
“Why yes,” she said, as the boat began to inch away. “I don’t know any other way to get around.”
She waved a frail arm, and the boat slowly moved away from the shore. As she began drifting away, she took her camera and snapped a photo of us, then stuck it into her book.