The afternoon was falling over the field of tall grasses. It seemed like a soft, golden blanket that anyone could float on. In these circumstances, a photographer like me always feels like inviting his model to walk ahead and sit somewhere comfortable among the grass, so that I can lower my camera and look for my model's face, illuminated with pure gold of the surrounding light. Yamila did her best to remain seated there with a certain glamour and confidence. She never stopped looking at me. It was as if she was watching me and as if she didn't care that I left her there: this was her kingdom, her time in that part of the universe. My role at that time was to be a simple documentarian of her way of posing, her freckles and her messy hair.
La tarde caía sobre el campo de hierbas altas. Parecía un manto dorado y suave sobre el que cualquiera podría flotar. En esas circunstancias, siempre se antoja un fotógrafo como yo de invitar a su modelo a que camine adelante y se siente en algún lugar cómodo entre el pasto, para yo poder bajar mi cámara y buscar el rostro de mi modelo, iluminado con el oro puro de la luz circundante. Yamila hizo lo posible por permanecer con cierto glamour y confianza ahí sentada. Nunca me dejó de mirar. Era como si me vigilara y como si no le importara que la dejase allí: aquello era su reino, su tiempo en esa parte del universo. Mi papel en ese momento era el de ser un simple documentalista de su manera de posar, de sus pecas y su pelo alborotado.
Thanks for the opportunity!
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