Giving up the guns
Based on the timeline for peace in Ireland Iraq has a long way to go. Nonetheless, it's gratifying to see the IRA finally seek a true alternate route. UDF. Are you following along here?
The day I spent in Belfast waaay back in 95 was pretty unique, from waking up to helicopters buzzing hovering outside the hostel window and marchers tramping down the road as I peaked my head out the window. With that, I promptly wrapped my camera in a newspaper and went to see what all the fuss was about. When you have one day to tour the town, no sense in letting a little violence deter you. I was stopped by a police officer, asking just what was wrapped in the newspaper. I obviously was not as stealthy as I believed. It was my first time abroad.
The point being that I accidently wandered into a building I thought was some sort of something that a tourist may want to see. As soon as I walked in it was uh oh, wrong place. The gentle Irish spirits inside kindly directed me out. As I walked out a man with a little girl in tow was quickly walking in. I looked down and he had a handgun drawn in his right hand and the little girls hand in his left. It's one of those images that's burned into your mind. The girl had red hair.
Then I walked into a bookstore selling IRA paraphernalia. Of course, you had to be buzzed in. I remember looking at the police station across the street. It was ensconced in fencing. Not only around the entire the building but up and over the roof as well. Car bomb deterrent. A wonderful world back then.
People were everywhere. To and fro. I was wandering down the road and this old man in a hat sitting on a stone fence looked at me, smiled a slow smile and made the little gun sign with his hand, thumb up and index finger extended, at me. The smile widened to a grin and he pulled the trigger, at me. All in fun.
Then I came home, turned my film into Marc's to be developed. And, well. They lost 'em. So it go.
The day I spent in Belfast waaay back in 95 was pretty unique, from waking up to helicopters buzzing hovering outside the hostel window and marchers tramping down the road as I peaked my head out the window. With that, I promptly wrapped my camera in a newspaper and went to see what all the fuss was about. When you have one day to tour the town, no sense in letting a little violence deter you. I was stopped by a police officer, asking just what was wrapped in the newspaper. I obviously was not as stealthy as I believed. It was my first time abroad.
The point being that I accidently wandered into a building I thought was some sort of something that a tourist may want to see. As soon as I walked in it was uh oh, wrong place. The gentle Irish spirits inside kindly directed me out. As I walked out a man with a little girl in tow was quickly walking in. I looked down and he had a handgun drawn in his right hand and the little girls hand in his left. It's one of those images that's burned into your mind. The girl had red hair.
Then I walked into a bookstore selling IRA paraphernalia. Of course, you had to be buzzed in. I remember looking at the police station across the street. It was ensconced in fencing. Not only around the entire the building but up and over the roof as well. Car bomb deterrent. A wonderful world back then.
People were everywhere. To and fro. I was wandering down the road and this old man in a hat sitting on a stone fence looked at me, smiled a slow smile and made the little gun sign with his hand, thumb up and index finger extended, at me. The smile widened to a grin and he pulled the trigger, at me. All in fun.
Then I came home, turned my film into Marc's to be developed. And, well. They lost 'em. So it go.
posted by BC at 8:08 PM
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