Chicken
It was sunday and I remember waking up after ten in the morning that day. London was sunny and at that time the TV only showed scenes of a wrecked car somewhere in Paris. The voices and comments of the journalists were paused and dramatic; they talked about the Ritz, about a tunnel and some photographers. They said it was a national tragedy and it was; Princess Diana had passed away early that morning. Her body would arrive hours later to a military base in the north of the city and six days later her funeral would take place in Westminster Abbey.
For an aspiring photojournalist like me it was a golden opportunity. I had been studying all types of photography for nearly eight months and I was about to complete two years living in the city. The next day I left my house full of enthusiasm and eager to photograph that tragedy in a deep way. The impact of those news were easy to notice everywhere and in everyone around. I thought it will be an easy task and in my bag I packed a 35mm camera loaded with black and white film and a powerful 70-300 mm lens ready to be used for the first time. My first plan was to visit Buckingham palace where all the action was going to happen.
When I arrived I saw what I expected: the pain in the people, flowers covering the entrance of the palace, toys and lots of hand written notes. For a long while I shot focused and convinced I was putting together my first photo story of great importance. Suddenly, I saw two old women holding and looking at a tabloid with the news very well displayed in the front page. A good picture, I said to myself. I did all my adjustments, and when I was about to press the shutter button, I saw the two women looking at me with anger, almost agressive. They looked at me in a very bad way. By that time the first suspects of causing the accident that took the life of the princess were the paparazzi and I guess that was precisely what caused their reaction against me. I understood it that way. I didn't shoot. I felt guilty and that was it. I walked away, and beyond repentment, these few pictures survived plus the lesson that the most important thing, for the sake of the story, is never to give up.
