❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@rasjidwright-blog
“Oh,” Kenna mumbled, picking up the flyer and walking toward Rasjid. “Here you go. A little wrinkled, but salvageable.”
“Oh! Thank you for this,” Rasjid nods earnestly, taking the flyer back and properly stapling it before it gets away from him.
“Flyers are kind of old-fashioned, but I figured they might help a bit...”
jfcjohanna:
Jo’s smile mimicked his own, nodding excitingly “It is my favourite from the entire show. I am so glad someone understands.”
“I’m really fond of, um. Science Fiction/Double Feature. And, ironically enough, touch-a touch-a touch me. I used to run around my house singing that as a kid, it gave my mum a heart attack.”
Rasjid is quietly putting up a flyer on a telephone pole that reads: “Music Teacher: mainly piano, guitar, and violin, but could probably teach you something else if you wanted. Except the trombone. All ages welcome. If interested, take a tab.” However, a gust of wind hits him and the flyer flies out of his hand before he’s able to staple it, and he speaks to a stranger just passing it.
“Oh, grab that, please…”
ethanbtw:
“I just mean, I don’t care either way. Whether someone does them or not. I dabbled in that for a bit, but I’d never wear a t-shirt advertising it.”
“I guess that’s fair. People’s, um, choices are their own,” Rasjid contemplates, “I guess the t-shirts they wear are their own choice as well. Maybe they were wearing it ironically. Or maybe they’re asking where their friend Molly is.”
evelyncooper:
“No– um, actually, the candles used in wax play are specially made. We don’t sell them.”
Rasjid’s eyes widen, looking around at the customer who’d asked the question, who promptly was disappointed at the shopkeeper’s answer and left. Rasjid clears his throat and awkwardly laughs a little bit. “People are kinda funny,” he said softly.
mayazorova:
“Nice to meet you too, Rasjid–” She replied with a smile, taking a sip of her tea. “Yup, been here for a couple of years. Was studying at Durham and ended up staying. You?”
“I moved here a few months ago,” he said a bit quietly, “Figured it was a nice place to come settle. It’s quiet, less happening. Came here from London.”
“I’m not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I’m one hell of a lover. I’m just a sweet transves— hey! Don’t judge me. It’s a great song.”
Rasjid grins, big. “From transsexual Transylvania?” he finishes. “It is a great song, you’re right...”
daltonkms:
“Oh, I have money, but not that much money. A nice Steinway is much more expensive. I am fine with a good Yamaha or Baldwin. I think what matters most is not the instrument’s quality, but in creating the music itself, if that makes sense.” His smile widening, Dalton ducked his down, a bit embarrassed to be showing such a smile for just a piano. “I would… I would love that, if you would let me.
“You are a lot more understanding than most. Thank you.”
Rasjid laughed awkwardly as he tried not to think about the fact that he’d spent nearly ₤20,000 on his own piano. “They’re instruments to be proud of,” he affirmed with a nod, and he smied a bit at Dalton’s words. “Yeah--true. Very true...”
Rasjid nods. “Yeah, anytime you want, I don’t mind,” he said, “I uh--I’m Rasjid, by the way. Don’t know if I said that earlier.”
“I mean, drugs are whatever but bragging about drugs is kind of.. lame.”
“Drugs are whatever,” Rasjid chuckles, “Bit flippant.”
viktoriya-dragov:
“Your instruments? What do you play? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” She smiled. “I think that’s a natural assumption that most parents would make because people automatically associate loud noises of most kinds with anger. I guess you don’t have to be loud to like loud things, really. Sometimes it’s nice to drown out the rest of the world with noise.”
“Oh, I think so, too, so I also try to listen to all kinds of things. Although, I will admit that there is some music I can’t find it in myself to tolerate.”
Rasjid laughs a little at the question. “Um. I dabble in a lot of things,” he says almost sheepishly.
Rasjid nods modestly. “Yeah, exactly. Drown out the wold. Or help you see it through another lens... if that makes sense...”
He grins a little bit. “Oh? What’s that? I have to know, now.”
leoniorwerth:
Leon gives the man a smile, giving his hand a firm shake before he retracts his own. “Nice to meet you,” he notes, before shaking his head. “Only a couple of months,” he answers. “You’re a local?”
“Yeah, you too,” Rasjid agrees lightly, shrugging at the man’s question.
“I’ve been here maybe a year, two,” he says, “It’s a nice place to settle down.”
seanfml:
“Letters as in actual mail letters? Or do you mean emails? Sorry, no, that’s not the point. I think you should tell them that if they really cared about you, they shouldn’t push you to do something you no longer want to do. I mean, I think it’s your happiness that matters more than pleasing other people. I get that a lot, don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of the only real line of communication I keep open with... those fellows. I don’t have a public email...” Rasjid clears his throat, trying to keep his modest level of fame on the down low.
He feels a little sad then--it’s not that Rasjid didn’t want to do it anymore, it just didn’t make him happy or fulfilled like he used to be. He nods, though.
“Yeah... it doesn’t really help, but, they’re waning off I think. Slowly but surely,” he nods a bit, “Thank you, though. For the reassurances.”
daltonkms:
“I have a Baldwin baby grand here in Darlington, but, in my home in Paris, I have a Yamaha grand piano and it has gorgeous tone quality… Your piano honestly sounds beautiful. Perhaps I could listen to you play some day?” He offers a bit of a smile.
Shaking his head, he ducks his head down. “Ah, no, sorry, I was very rude earlier. I am snobby when it comes to French.”
“Oh--Baldwins are nice. And Yamahas are even nicer--y’know, everyone always goes on about Steinway and all but there’s something to be said for a nice Yamaha...” he almost blushes at the compliment to his piano, in the same way he’d get bashful if someone were to compliment him, “Thanks, I’m really, um, proud of it. And... yeah, I mean, if you wanted... you could, uh, play it too. They restored it really nicely...”
Rasjid spares a tiny shrug. “It’s okay. We can all be um, snobby about things, sometimes...”
“I honesty feel that way about anyone who can play nay instrument. I cannot play one for my life, aside from the piano, but everyone plays the piano.” He bites his lower lip. “I would definitely appreciate that, if you wouldn’t mind showing a rude foreigner the way.”
Rasjid smiles a little bit--despite the rocky start, it seemed he did have something in common with this guy. “I play the piano too, so maybe you’re right,” he said with a chuckle, “Do you have one? I’m practically in love with mine--it’s an Emerson square grand, made in 1876, it’s beautiful--” Rasjid catches himself babbling about the instrument and promptly halts. “But.. um. yeah.”
He clears his throat, nodding. “It’s okay, you’re not that rude,” he says, tilting his head up the street, “This way...”
ethanbtw:
“Someone wearing a ‘Where’s the Molly?’ t-shirt just tried to talk to me and I had the most pretentious moment of my life because I could not take them seriously.”
“It is a bit silly... young people don’t really realize how bad those things are for them... and to act braggadocios about using it is a little foolish...”
mayazorova:
“Eh, I guess it depends on your definition of rude. I say every man for themselves in these places, grab a chair while you can. Hell, if you don’t, you’ll be the one suffering–”
Maya smiled and stuck an arm out, “Maya, nice to meet you.”
Rasjid spares a reserved smile. “A bit barbarian, but true,” he says with a tiny chuckle, taking the girls hand to give it a shake. “Hi, Maya. I’m Rasjid. Nice to meet you. Um. You from around here?”
