A friend of mine, Mokhtar Chahine (www.mokhtarchahine.com), snapped this shot of me- it wasn't candid, it was rehearsed, in other words the seating position, the cigarette burning my attitude was for the photo-shoot only. He labelled it "The Outsider"- this reminded me of the Albert Camus book I read in high school with the same title, about an existentialist man who lived life in a sensationalistic manner; not a care for the human thought or emotions, he didn't care about love, about friendship or family. He was apathetic towards life and cared only to live each day as if it were the first and last day of his existence.
This woman in the picture she is confident, strong, assertive, nothing seems to phase her, she doesn't care about who is watching her, she repels femininity and challenges men. She gently lays the weight of her head in the small palm of her hand, while allowing the cigarette to burn out just as the night is with her other hand. The contrast of darkness and light only serves to illuminate the vicissitudes that have befallen her. She is lost in light leaving her dark. There is something about her that does cast her as an outsider, an outsider from her own inward light.
That's not really me, it's the alter ego, or the alter ego I get from the picture. Just like Beyonce who has Sacha Fierce, and Janet Jackson has Damita Jo. I have her, that outsider. I like her because when you juxtapose her with me, you get a black-white image with a colorful bubbly energetic young lady.
