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Who is this sassy lost child
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The lens of Nadia's camera swept the park, passing Cristóbal before doing another round. She paused and took a picture in his direction.

And another.

And anoth- oh no.

The shift in Cristo's expression from confusion to surprise to mortification was probably clearly visible to Nadia's camera. Crap, crap, crap. She'd seen him staring. He hadn't meant to stare, but- oh God, this could go badly. It didn't take a genius to know that she was making some kind of point by taking a bunch of pictures of him, but he had no idea how to defuse the situation.

Maybe he should just look away and ignore her and they could pretend they never saw each other and this never happened. Oh, but she had pictures of him now and no context for them. What if she showed them to someone and they got weird ideas...?

He had to talk to her. Crap. Assuming she even would want to talk to him and not just brush him off as a creeper. He forced himself to raise one hand and sent a stuttering, uncertain wave in Nadia's direction, and prayed that she hadn't already gotten the idea that he was some kind of stalker.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."

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I could live in the world just like a stranger · Liberty Park