Photosophy

[Curtain rises. Mellow lighting reveals an untidy student room with an unmade bed and scattered books, shoes, sports kit. There is a door centre stage with a large peephole, tote bags and coats hanging from hooks either side of it. Enter NICHOLAS stage left, on the phone. He is nineteen, at university, with a sense of unkemptness about him. The month is November, wet and autumnal.]

NICHOLAS: [speaking on the phone] ...yes...yes, and I’ve tried looking online, but the closest one is on Tottenham Court Road, which is a bloody forty-five minute walk. [Pause] Well the tube will take just as long! And I hate it down there, so loud and warm and scruffy. [Pause. Sarcastic] Yeah, thanks, hilarious. Hmm. I guess I’ll just have to give it a try. It’s annoying that I can’t send it home and have it done the normal way. [Pause] Yeah. Ok. You too, talk to you later. Bye. [He hangs up. Slight scuffling noise outside, then a door slamming. NICHOLAS immediately goes to the peephole, watching avidly. Beat. Suddenly he jumps back as someone knocks. He opens the door. Enter LEON.]

LEON: Hey man.

NICHOLAS: Hey, what’s up?

LEON: Alright if I come in?

NICHOLAS: Yeah, sure! Sorry about the mess. [LEON saunters in. He is the same age, also scruffy.]

LEON: No worries mate, mine is exactly the same.

NICHOLAS: So, what’s up?

LEON: Nothing much. I’ve had about three calls from my parents wanting life updates, as usual.

NICHOLAS: Yeah, they can really get on your nerves, right?

LEON: [Sits on the bed] I suppose. I do miss the food, though. Beans on toast just doesn’t cut it.

NICHOLAS: It does, but not five nights in a row. [They laugh].

LEON: So what you been up to?

NICHOLAS: I went for a walk yesterday, took some photos. I need to get them developed, actually, but the closest Boots is on Tottenham Court. Don’t suppose you know anywhere closer?

LEON: Err, sorry mate, I’m not into photography. [Beat] I didn’t know you liked film.

NICHOLAS: Yeah. Cities always come up pretty cool. And Polaroids, but I save those for people. Parties and stuff. We need to host one soon!

LEON: Only if you’re clearing up.

NICHOLAS: Hah! I don’t know, photos were always my way of, like, seeing the world.

LEON: [Laughs] Well, duh. I mean, isn’t that all you do with a photo? Look at it?

NICHOLAS: Yeah, I guess, but there’s more to it. You know, when you’re walking, and suddenly you see a lamppost line up perfectly with a building, and you find a really cool angle? Or you wait for a speck of colour, like a red bus, or something. Or a bit of greenery for contrast, you know.

LEON: [Uninterested] Wowww. Ok.

NICHOLAS: I know it doesn’t seem interesting. I have so many photos of my street back home, it’s unreal. I don’t really know what to do with them.

LEON: What do you do with them? All your photos? The developed film, and stuff.

NICHOLAS: I look at them. I see them.

LEON: Right. Like art?

NICHOLAS: Yeah, like art. They really jump out at me, you know. And it doesn’t have to be a landscape. It can be a sea of faces, or a single body walking on a lone road, hazily lit in the rain, with an umbrella. That’s one of my favourite photos ever. But yeah, I don’t know, I just love taking them, and sifting through them. The places I’ve been, the people I’ve seen. I have so many albums of them. I’ll show you sometime. If you want. It’s my way of communicating with the world, I guess. It’s my way of visualising things and capturing people in particular moments. It’s like home to me, you know, and the camera is like my front door, opening up all these possibilities.

LEON: I see. Cool. [Pause] Fancy a beer?

NICHOLAS: Yeah, sure.

LEON: [Slightly regretful] Maybe you can show me sometime. It’s cool to see other people’s homes.