Scruff at Western Springs
“Nice day for photography!” he said as our paths crossed in the car park by Western Springs.
“And you would make a fine subject – do you mind?”
He had to repeat his name to my startled face: “They call me Scruff”.
Then our paths diverged. He is a photographer, too.
ouch.
That is a weathered face with an interesting Tā moko.
Great face. Be a good guy to sit down and put the world to rights with.
Wow! What a great portrait. And what a great name. Not so long ago a guy with bald head totally tattooed would sit in front of our local supermarket. Never said anything. Just sat there. Strange.