My encounter with the Wetzlar born Leica enthusiast had taken place shortly after I embraced my Latte. I had just angled my 1939 Leica iiib at an exact angle from my beverage to comply with my compulsion for an interesting table composition, in the likely hood of my snapping an image on my phone.
His accent was thick and broad. I found myself visualising a pint of German beer dripping down my luscious beard gnawing on a stick of bratwurst. A powerful image indeed as I don't own a beard. The topic of our conversation wasn't on the timeless merits of beer, beards or even my apparent self deception that people looked at me driving my Yaris out of jealousy, but rather on the little bundle of metal that sat at a 45 degree angle to my exquisite glass of caffeinated addiction, brewed for me by the coffee artisans at Larry and Ladd.
I was so caught up in his accented enthusiasm for meeting someone who was using a camera that had been born from the same little town as him, that I found myself daydreaming a little of owning an Audi and denying ever have owned a Yaris. Reality has a cruel way of robbing me of small deceptions.
Our discourse ended briefly as it was apparent he was in some sort of rush to be somewhere else, or he had realised that the power of owning a Leica was no match for the power of owning a vehicle of feminine persuasion. Regardless, I felt rather elevated at his recognition of the little Leica iiib and his enthusiasm that one was still in use today. His parting words were of encouragement and an exhortation to never let it go.
After a deep satisfying breath of air, I held the camera in my hand, gave it a look somewhat akin to fatherly affection, and took a sip of my briefly forgotten latte.
Somehow I found my coffee tasted better.
For more images from my analogue outings, check out my Instagram gallery @backwater_beat by clicking here.