As I was walking through head-high fields of sugar cane, I came across a small, isolated, dirty looking shack. The door was open and inside I could spy and old women with a leathery, wrinkled face. Her hair was up in curlers and she had a scarf tied around her head. On the door was a sign in Japanese ‘Open for Business’. Handwritten on the wall beside was the name of the shop – Smile Beauty Salon. It was such an incongruous sight: The disheveled parlour alone in the middle of all these fields; The woman’s weather-beaten, smiling face; The dreary weather setting a melancholy tone. I really think it would have made an amazing picture. Real Time Magazine type stuff. But hey, my poor old camera would have been ruined in the downpour and I didn’t want to intrude on the farm lady’s private pleasure. It’s all still printed on my mind’s eye. I won’t forget. I took a quick snap of the shop on the way back but the door was closed and the magic was gone.
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