By John Wreford

It was an instinctive photographer’s reaction, and almost immediately I regretted it. I didn’t look at the digital image on the LCD screen and knew I would probably delete it when I did.

With some kind of subconscious auto-tuning, my eyes will flit, focus, and settle on whatever detail catches my innate artistic frame. I see pictures all the time — it’s a way of seeing — but even with my camera, I rarely secure those moments.

Everyday images never recorded; in fact, this post was originally going to be about the photographs I don’t take — specifically, images of people going about their daily lives, this should be one of those images.

It was early evening, the light fading, and I was only going out to get some food. Despite carrying my camera, I had little intention of taking pictures. It had been over 40 degrees during the day, the air filled with Saharan sand and the usual smoggy grit that envelops this overcrowded city — and whilst that may not sound very strange for Egypt, 41 degrees in April is.

I was fully aware of the security presence just along the street and that, along with my typical discretion, meant I was quick in raising my camera, framing, and making two images. I’m not sure if the camera actually made it to my eye — technically, I didn’t need to think.

I don’t usually shoot first and ask questions later, but as I walked on, I began thinking more about the image. I knew why I had taken it — but why hadn’t I stopped and talked with the man? At the very least, asked his name and whether he was okay. Usually, I do. I do my best to be respectful, to be mindful and considerate, and it was for these reasons that the intended blog post was about the images I hadn’t made — and this image probably should have been one of them.

All these thoughts were running through my mind as I ate my dinner, and still I avoided looking at the screen. As I walked back home, I passed the same spot, and of course, there was no sign of the man.

Eventually, looking at the image, I was filled with an overwhelming sadness. I knew nothing of this man, but his forlorn posture just made me want to cry. Was he in pain, or just taking a rest? Who am I to assume anything about him — especially since my own self-absorption didn’t allow me the time to talk with him?

At the moment I made the image, I considered how the scene conjured up what life felt like in this ridiculous weather. Recently, I have been making other images on that theme — but on closer inspection, I felt this image reveals far more, especially regarding life in Egypt.

His clothes suggest he is from Upper Egypt — typically farming villages; his heavy-set frame and large hands would make him a capable worker.

Cairo is bursting, the villages are emptying, and the youth are migrating. Inflation is rampant, the currency has plummeted, and summer starts in spring — none of which were caused by this chap taking a rest from selling cotton candy to put food on the table.

And maybe spare a thought the next time you haggle over the price of a camel ride around the Pyramids, or a bottle of water from a street vendor in Luxor.

I still don’t know if I should have taken the picture or not, and I do regret not taking the time to talk with him. But maybe the image can serve as a metaphor — not just for that dusty street, or the ever-expanding city, or the long-suffering country — but for the sad state of a world capable of so much more.

Thank you for reading.

John Wreford is a nomadic storyteller usually found getting into trouble in the Middle East. See/read more at John Wreford Photographer and on Instagram at johnwreford.