Speakingout
People watching was my first hobby. I'd venture to say the same for anyone born with sight. If you've ever been in a room with a googly-eyed baby, you probably know firsthand the feeling of being watched. Children are fearless when it comes to staring, but upon entrance to adulthood many people drop the pastime of observing their own kind.
On those lost, found and fabricated 100709 SPEAKINGOUT 2 Capital City Weekly People watching was my first hobby. I'd venture to say the same for anyone born with sight. If you've ever been in a room with a googly-eyed baby, you probably know firsthand the feeling of being watched. Children are fearless when it comes to staring, but upon entrance to adulthood many people drop the pastime of observing their own kind.

Do you recognize the subjects of the above reader-submitted photos? If so, please help us reunite the photographs with their photographer.


Do you recognize the subjects of the above reader-submitted photos? If so, please help us reunite the photographs with their photographer.


Do you recognize the subjects of the above reader-submitted photos? If so, please help us reunite the photographs with their photographer.

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Wednesday, October 07, 2009

Story last updated at 10/7/2009 - 11:37 am

On those lost, found and fabricated

People watching was my first hobby. I'd venture to say the same for anyone born with sight. If you've ever been in a room with a googly-eyed baby, you probably know firsthand the feeling of being watched. Children are fearless when it comes to staring, but upon entrance to adulthood many people drop the pastime of observing their own kind.

I still treasure the tradition, especially during tourist season. What better way to spend a lunch hour than inventing outlandish assumptions about passers-by, none of whom are likely to bear much real life resemblance to the characters that I create in my imagination.

A friend of mine used to write a blog about such ideas called "People Walking Past My Tree," in which he would post snapshots of people passing his front door and invent elaborate stories about them. His figments included varying details about where people were going, thoughts on their mind or what they would eat for dinner. But the common denominator in each entry was a detailed description of how each person would meet their end. Regardless of their tragic endings, his tales were grossly entertaining.

This all came to mind upon receiving an e-mail from a reader who came across a camera on the beach. She labeled the camera as "totaled" but was able to recover some images from its memory card. She discovered a number of photos that appear to have been taken during the first week of August in local locations, and her hope in contacting us was to reunite photos and photographer. She sent three images, clues into the lives of two women whose identities remain unknown.

After determining that I didn't recognize the photographs' subjects, I tried to imagine who they must be and what they were up to. The first photo shows a woman with strawberry blonde hair sitting in what appears to be an airport terminal of some sort. She looks ready for a vacation with a smile on her face and a duffel on the seat next to her. Her setting didn't ring any bells with me, so I couldn't make any assumptions as to where she travelled from. It can only be assumed that she is Juneau-bound.

The second shot is a wide view of an interior living space, showing our airport friend eating breakfast with a brunette friend of hers. Both women appear relaxed and seem to be enjoying themselves, though the brunette looks more at home. She sits with her feet on the couch and a notebook computer in her lap, slightly slouched against a pair of throw pillows. This photograph of the girls was shot from across the room implying a third party, perhaps the camera's owner. But there are no clues as to who that may be, only the reflection of a flash in the window pane.

The final clue is a portrait of our brunette friend hiking along a trail with a CamelBak pack and no sleeves. The air behind her is hazy. Fireweed and spruce maintain a familiar background, yet the location's appearance is too vague to pinpoint.

Who are these mysterious women of the memory card? We could continue to conceive rumors about them all day long, but if you know who they really are and think they might like their photos back, let me know.

Libby Sterling is the staff writer for the Capital City Weekly. She may be reached at libby.sterling@capweek.com.


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