On Sunday I was soaking up all the Vitamin D my alabaster skin can handle (15 minutes or so) in the first real day Spring had to offer. I was at Peebles Island with my girlfriend, an incredible nature escape on an small island near Troy in the midst of 3-4 bustling downtown areas. I wasn’t the only one with that idea; many people took to the park to relax, and although I very much enjoyed myself, and I might have accidentally taken the saddest picture of all time.
Peebles Island, accessible only by a single lane bridge, is comprised of many foot trails that twist and turn through the abyss of some trees I cannot identify.
Every here and there, you come to a ledge with a little bench or nook where you can take some time to breathe in the dirty Hudson River. When I approached one outlook, a patio with a sole picnic table, I saw what seemed to be a very romantic date.
The only thing missing? The romance.
The dude had a dozen roses, a big salad and some sort of protein because there were two plates set with a napkin, fork and knife.
I knew I was either about to witness romance at its finest, or see a grown man’s heart be crushed in front of a dozen or so park goers. I wished for the former as time ticked on.
It was like a car crash about to happen, I didn’t want to look away, but in light of being respectful, I did. I continued on my journey around the park but my mind was consumed with the status of this man’s well being. Most girls would kill for a man like this, settin’ up roses on the riverside –it’s romantic as hell. Or this guy just really fucked up and was on his apology tour. Either way, I snapped the photo because I’m artsy.
I killed a few minutes with my girlfriend before saying we needed to go back and check on our man. Did his lover ever show up? What protein did he prepare? I had so many questions I couldn’t focus and we made our way back. As we approached I saw the light at the end of the tunnel…he was no longer alone!
As I got closer, I quickly realized it’s not the company he was hoping for. Instead of a lover taking part in the lovely meal this man had prepared, it was a Dad and his three kids bombarding this guy’s setup for the sake of the good view. What ever happened to first come first served?
The kids were running around and jumping all over the railing while my man was head between his knees just soaking up the L like my skin was the sunlight. We both were burnt, but no amount of aloe can fix his shattered heart.
In this instance, as sad as it was, I realized I had achieved greatness, I captured one of the saddest moments in human history like a true artist would. My photo as a work of art is basically a 2.0 version of Vincent Van Gough’s, “Old Man in Sorrow.”
I really see no difference. I am Van Gogh 2.0.
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