The Photographer

““Some glamour! That’s it, that’s it, some seduction. Click! Another one, very good,
very good, and smile like a diva, put a spell on me, give me your femme fatal look.
Click! Click! Click! Now the look of lust, eyes towards the camera. Click! Click!….
Ok, another one, Click! Click!”
“Ok that’s it, Ok” said the model tired of so much fuss. “But Mom,” – answered Alberto
Maccagno – “if I don’t practice with you, I’ll never become a fashion photographer.”
“But, me, I am fed up with all these flashes which singeing my eyelashes!” said the
woman, while she sponged her sweat with a dishtowel, and walked out of the room
to finish the leek soup that she had left on the stove. “There’s no hope, people
don’t understand me” thought Alberto. And just at that moment, his grandmother
passed in front of the door…“Grandma, grandma, come, come, sit down on this
stool…””