Strolling the sidewalk, my wife Rita said, “Harold, look at the pretty woman”.
A few wives do that you know.
Rapidly swinging my lens 180 degrees, I fired off a slew of images. Click, click, click, click, click.
Damn, what a face!
I asked Pretty Woman if it was ok that I took photographs of her. Told her I would not sell them.
She purred “sure”.
“OK Harold, time to go”, Rita said.
Being a travel photographer is tough.