SECRET GARDENS
I'd been out on a walk through downtown Winnipeg. This was in mid-July, 2009. Running out of steam, I was turning home when the call for a cigarette was lodged my way. I looked over my shoulder and saw a figure sitting on a bench in the shade. I told the old man I didn’t smoke and continued on my way. The old man cried out; he had noticed the camera hanging from my neck. He beckoned me over, and something made me stop and take a seat. He showed me some of what was stuffed into the gym bag at his side, and I started to wonder. The old man wanted me to photograph him at my studio. I said I didn’t have a studio, so he insisted that I come with him.