We are in the dark in the waves. I want her glistening and awake when the Sun bombs over the horizon. But she is perplexed, tentative. A question?
"You said last night that only 150 people left Africa how long ago?"
"About fifty thousand years ago, our direct ancestors."
"And what about the Neanderthals?"
"They were already there, Abbi."
"And the language they spoke was a kind of autism?"
"Maybe."
Now I realize she is ready to fly back to Amsterdam to see her nephew, who is autistic. Has she been thinking about last night's conversation all night? Was she sitting out on the balcony worried about her nephew? He cannot speak, but he draws like Rafael. He bites her on the arms and hands, scratches her torso. For several days before shoots, her family keeps the nephew away from Abbi so she doesn't arrive at the location damaged and in need of photoshop.
"So if the Neanderthals spoke this autistic language of yours, and the memories of that language is locked somewhere in our genes, I could speak to my nephew?"
"No, The Neanderthals died. All of them. They didn't mate with our direct ancestors. It took thousands of years, but our ancestors replaced the Neanderthals in Europe."
"And we lived because we had language and they did not?"
"Maybe."
The Sun glints turquoise into the purple sky. Abbi turns to face the light, but then turns again to face me, because she has another question. I pull the trigger.
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#Ghost Limited, Jan 14, 2008 at 22:41 - Appreciation I like
It's these types of shots that I see as the light fades out and I close my eyes, just before I fall asleep. The only light available is so faint that it can barely be called light at all.
This is my favorite type of photo. Well done.
+Daniel Seman, Jan 14, 2008 at 21:14 - Appreciation I like