Nice to meet you, Mark Fisher

Cycling through the Lower East Side this evening, I was stopped by a red light. I reviewed two photographs on my phone while waiting at the junction. Taken from the saddle, neither was very good.

"Any good?" asked a cyclist hovering on my left shoulder. He was a small, balding man with a lot of baggage and a lot of pockets. No, I told him, and said it was difficult to take good pictures while moving.

"No it's not," he said loudly, and I laughed uncomfortably. "I can take 'em hanging out of helicopters! Out of planes!" I laughed again. Ha! Ha! This funny old man, I thought. This New York chancer!

But the man stared coldly back at me, his mouth rising forward in disgust. "I'm Mark Fisher," he barked. "American photographer Mark Fisher." 

The lights turned green, and Mr Fisher pedaled away before I could reply.