by Bretton Niles Harris
Above: “Old Port Alleyway”
I stowed the Polaroids I’d just taken down by Casco Ferry and decided to cruise down Commercial Street looking for an inviting establishment to have a drink. Passing DeMillo’s, I spotted an open spot on the corner and gently slid the car into park.
Walking up the sea-worn paving bricks, I spotted to my left a curious blue light emanating from rows of glass window blocks. The sounds of a gospel chorus rang out from any number of the local basement meeting halls and granges. Couples walked by in pairs and loose confederacies. Couples in an outdoor beer-pub tittered and smiled at each other.
To my right, I spotted an elderly woman sitting stock-still on a granite planter beside her plush doggy AM/FM radio. I could see what appeared to be a sacred motif applied with eyeliner over her third-eye; she appeared wise. Naturally, I felt compelled to ask if she’d feel comfortable with being documented. She agreed with mild trepidation, and I reassured her this wasn’t gonna be a hit piece. I asked for her name, and she whispered “Freedom.”
“Freedom,” I repeated. Walking away, I realized that Freedom was both her name and our common goal.