Page 10

     François puts on a face of mock disappointment and says with a pout, "that's a shame, I was having fun." "I have more film down here," she says, reaching for another roll and swapping it with the used one. "Would you like to take some photos of me this time?"
      "Ok," replies François, a little apprehensive. "I'm not very good with a camera though."
      Angelisa offers him some reassuring words and briefly explains how to use the camera, then takes hold of his hand, commanding his attention.
      "We can take some photos for my book of poetry." She says, instilling his trust with her soft, matter-of-fact tone. He nods in consent and sits up straight, awaiting his next instructions. She reaches for her notepad and pencil and begins scratching lines on the paper. In a second or two she finishes and tears off the sheet, handing it to him and saying
      "This one first."
      François studies the drawing, glancing up at Angelisa for a second and then back at the paper. He extends his arm, touching the edge of the sheet to her ear and his eyes jump between her face and the drawing. Back and forth they go, studying and comparing until he smiles in recognition.
      "It's your chin and neck," he says triumphantly.
      She nods her head excitedly, grinning as she kneels on the rug. Positioning herself where the light is best, she gives him a sign of readiness. He looks carefully at the drawing and then, slowly and carefully, raises the camera to his eye. Peering out from the side he holds the paper up in his line of vision and ducks back to the viewfinder to ensure his framing is accurate. One last comparison and - click! He lowers the camera and she turns her head, beaming.
      "Très bien!"
      She grabs the pad and pencil and sketches the next shot - her stomach. He guesses almost instantly, identifying the shaded indentation of a belly button. She raises her sweater and lies back on the rug, offering a few words of direction so that he can obtain the perfect angle. He holds the drawing close to the camera again, darting back and forth to compare the images, then with an impromptu snap of realisation says,
      "Hold on. You said this book of poetry was about landscapes."