Le Baiser

https://c2.staticflickr.com/4/3188/3030277206_6cbf71826f_z.jpg?zz=1

This is my favorite poster I had on my wall in my high school bedroom. I wasn't yet a photographer when I fell in love with the photograph, but I remember catching my breath when I stumbled across it on a postcard in a bookstore. I think I bought the card or maybe showed it to my mother, and I must have mentioned wishing I could have it as a poster, too. Or maybe Mom just decided I needed to have a larger version and surprised me. Either way, it showed up under the Christmas tree--this exact version by Éditions du Désastre--in a metal frame with glare-free glass, and I wasted no time putting it up on the wall. I borrowed my stepfather's hammer, but I can't remember if I used a picture hanger (most likely) or a simple nail. I do remember standing on my bed and lowering it into position, then flopping down onto the mattress to admire it.

Over the next couple of years, I studied that photo at least a thousand times during reading breaks or while sitting in the floor listening to music or talking on the phone. Doisneau's combination of the intimacy of the kissing couple, the motion and hubbub of the street, and the range of detachment and suspicion from the passersby shaped my love of street photography before I ever picked up a camera with artistic intention. On a more subconscious level, the photograph predisposed me to like cities where people move past one another and around cafe tables on sidewalks between office buildings and busy streets. I will always love this photo, and this writing exercise convinced me I need to go find another one to hang somewhere in my home. I wrote a love letter about this photo once. It takes up a lot of space in my mind, still.

I took the poster to my college dorm as a freshman, and it kept me company during all the transitions of that year. When I packed my car to move home that summer, though, I dropped it and shattered the glass. The poster itself ripped in a couple places, and after a few minutes of trying to talk myself into believing I could salvage it, I gave up and carried it to the dumpster where all the other broken stuff from people's dorm rooms had started to accumulate. I added it to the pile, turned on my heel, and walked back toward my car with the flashers blinking and a whole lot of stuff left to load.

Here are this week's prompts from 642 Things:

• What's the largest block of time you've ever had to kill? How did you go about it?

• Recount the day you put your favorite poster up on your bedroom wall. Then write about the day you took it down.

• Describe the supernatural experience you had (or never had but wish you did).