Unprepared for History

Tonight, as we try to slipstream into the final Vieux-Port Metro crowds, the police stop me. I had pushed it too far. They ask to see my camera, order me to delete all my pictures of people holding machine guns. I could protest, but I have learnt not to argue with anyone armed with an automatic weapon.

Through sheer dumb luck, the police miss my big prize. Two clear shots of a renowned Corsican Mafioso. Although travelling in the traditional armour of pinstripe and handmade shoes, I catch him at ease, eating and then wiping away the remains of a snatched snack of pissaladières. This is how I like my gangster photographs. Human. Unprepared for history. Anchovy and onion juice dribbling from the mouth.