Santo Domingo, Zona Colonial, Calle El Conde.
You go through a place not too advantaged (no need to be another country) and see a middle aged guy who dresses much better than the people around. It's just his long rolled ironed sleeves amongst all that sweaty t-shirts but you let out the prejudice that he is a small cacique. You listen how she asks the drink with a kind of overwhelming politeness and how he treat the waitress with some certain kind paternalism that envelops an old machismo, then the young waiter, with a military camaraderie that underlines who is not the private... and you think that you have seen that scene before, and that sadly you were not wrong.
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4 comments:
This is a lovely, evocative series- the simplicity of your line, combined with the text and your message is so strong. I am so enjoying them.
I am enjoying them also. they are wonderful!
Like the sketch and the observations about people.
Thank you all!
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