reading, close-up, hair

Reading.

In  The Grove, I watch a man with a camera. He is doing what I do from time to time. He is photographing  one of the squirrels which abound in The Grove. He is standing perfectly still to see how close the squirrel will approach him without being scared by the camera, or by his movements as he adjusts the camera.

"Are  you going to take some photographs?" asks a neighbour when we meet in the street. "It depends, " I say, "on what I come across." "You wouldn't like to photograph my newly cropped hair," she says with a slight gigle which implies that she is not entirely serious, but might, if pushed,  be just willing to pose. I reply, as I begin to walk on with a laugh which seems, I hope, to say, "you can't really be serious, or can you? but  by now it is too late!" Thus we communicate, I think to myself. And should I not have noticed, if not remarked on the fact, that she had had her hair attended to.