An Awkward Tale

Here’s an awkward tale from my day. I was taking some photos of a Welsh poet, the National Poet of Wales no less, when an old man barely sturdy enough to perch in a motorized mobility chair sets himself up in the front row. With the ungainly fragility of a freeze-dried newborn calf he makes his way delicately from his transport and into the seat. At any moment everything could go wrong. With offered and entirely necessary assistance refused in favor of upholding nebulous notions of contrived masculinity, he at once plops into the seat. With pride, he carefully farts.