Sunday, 19 June 2016
Being the first human being ever to be born with X Ray vision I would have made a wonderful brain surgeon.
My fame would have travelled far and wide. One day you would have found my eyes staring at you from the surface of a ten dollar bill. When I am dead and buried somebody no doubt would build a statue of me. Somewhere suitable. Times Square. Miami Beach. Or perhaps somewhere out of harms reach like Zocalo or next to a rusty well in the middle of the Yemen.
But brain surgery isn't for me. I prefer to keep my talents to myself. Why waste it when I can enjoy it?
You can't beat sitting on a warm beach with a good book, a cold beer and several hundred scantily clad women walking around totally oblivious to the fact that I can see everything. Some days I prefer a busy tube station. A hospital forecourt. Nothing gets in the way. No coat is too thick. No scarf too tightly stitched.
Who the hell wants to be a statue anyway? School girls giggling at your triple chin. Sea gulls forever shitting on your fat bald head.
(C) Ally Atherton 2016
Written for this week's Sunday Photo Fiction Challenge