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After five minutes, the man had still not budged. Ten minutes. Nothing. Finally, after fifteen minutes, the man took off his hat. He had thin, gray hair. Eleanor shook her head, thinking, at last, an imposter. But imposter or not, she decided, he was still worth shooting. She adjusted her focus just as the man turned to offer a full frontal view. His wide eyes ran across the counter and into the backroom near the bathroom, and then squinted, as if trying to peer through the lush Ficus, behind which Eleanor stood. Eleanor emerged from behind the tree and slowly lowered her camera. Phineas smiled. Then he got up and walked toward her. [...]

Queen For A Day

If something did go wrong and you rolled with it, nailing the shot anyway, no one would bother to pat you on the back because perfection was expected of a pro. Whereas if you fumbled the shot, if you let the unexpected trip you up–even if something clearly beyond your control went wrong–well, let’s just say phrases like “You’ll never work in this town again” would come to mind. [...]