Hands. The first thing that I thought of when I read today's challenge was, "Uh, no. No way am I taking a picture of my hands."
My hands do many wonderful things, but being pretty seems to have alluded them. Don't get me wrong; they're not gross or freakishly large (cough*SarahJessicaParker*cough), but let's just say that nobody will be signing me up to be a hand-model anytime soon.
So, to save the world from seeing my dry cuticles and the scar on my knuckle, I set out on my lunch-hour to find some hands that I could stealthily photograph. Surely, the Exchange would be full of couples holding hands, children dancing gayly around a May Pole and old ladies knitting scarves for the poor...right? Wrong.
Here's what I had to choose from: a homeless guy cleaning his nails with a pocket knife (fingers AND toes), and about 564 office-workers shoveling poutine out of little cardboard boxes outside the latest fast-food sensation in the Square. Thank Jeebus for the two buskers that came along to entertain the crowds on what seemed like the first truly warm day of the year.
Of course, being all stealthy comes at a cost; the photo is rather lackluster. But, in my own defense, so was their performance. No...I kid. Truth was, I had to get back to work and the small of gravy wafting from the Poutinerie was starting to make me weak.