It’s not the quickest way to get from point A to point B.

I know.

Readers, I’m married to one. A photographer, that is. Last night after Rescue Dawn at BAM, we slowly walked home after midnight. It was a night that said: take pictures of me. And Hepcat obliged.

It took forever.

Hepcat was stirred by the new buildings around BAM and the way the moon, the way the streetlights lit the scene.

Click click. He looked up at the sky…

Blue night sky, street light blur. Click. Click. Traffic. Color. Light. Click. Click.

Sometimes I get tired of waiting. I mean, COME ON: LET’S GET GOING ALREADY.  Often I am a half a block ahead by the time I realize he has stopped to take a picture.

This is our life.

We walked up Fourth Avenue and then traversed to Fifth. Past midnight, Fifth was quiet and dark for much of the way to Third Street. 

"Wait till you get to the number streets," Hepcat said knowingly.

Sure enough, at First Street Fifth Avenue livens up considerably with Bonnie’s Grill, Blue Ribbon Sushi, Blue Ribbon, Puppets, and other late-night spots.

Click. Click. Click. Hepcat clicked away. He walks, he looks, he takes pictures. That’s the photographer’s life.

Stop and go. Come on already. Impatiently standing on streetcorners. That’s the life of the  photographer’s spouse. My life.

That’s my life.