Alastair Macleod 
The Traveller’s Tale 

As he spoke the young photographer reappeared. ‘This is the girl you wanted?’ The photographer nodded. For this shot he needed someone young. She was not unattractive, even in that crazy outfit. Good bone structure, oval face, brown eyes, dark hair – that slight fragile look- all of that contrasted well with the factory gear. Some of the workers looked at home in it; their feet filled the white wellies, their solid figures swelling in the white overalls. This one seemed only to have temporarily slipped on the garb – as if she was wearing an outfit for an occasion.’My name is Vlado.’ He held out his hand. The trick was to get the subject to relax, that way you got a more natural shot, you avoided the frightened rabbit look. “What is your name?’ ‘Vera, ‘ she whispered. ‘Do you have any hobbies?’ said Vlado, as he began setting up some lights on stands. He was nimble, not tall; she watched his quick hands tighten the clamps on the light poles.