Tel Aviv, Israel — The intersection of Arlozorov and Dizengoff is a busy and oft-traversed one that I myself pass through at least twice a day. Because of this, I am highly familiar with all of the shops and restaurants on this corner. And due to that familiarity, I know that should I ever need to hire a professional photographer, for a special event or just to follow me around, I will not seek out the services of Farag, the one that has a storefront at this corner. It wouldn’t even be worth wasting my time trying — clearly this firm only takes clients that are even bigger freaks than I.
It seems to me the qualities necessary to secure the services of the Farag photography shop are, obviously #1 being a weirdo, and obviously #2 not having any problem having my weirdness in all of its glory on display in one of the most well-trod intersections of this city and country. My childhood, though awkward with my teeth coming in facing all different directions and my hair being affectionately referred to by my mom as a “rat’s nest” might have gotten me an “in” with this guy, but alas, I did not grow up in Tel Aviv. And I don’t think at this point I could embark on a career as a male ballerina (ballerino?). But if I ever lose my wits, go weird like Hunter S. Thompson, start a collection of antique do-rags, and then decide to document and exhibit this, it is a good thing that I will know where to go to do so.
1 year ago • Notes