first met Léo when I saw him going through the garbage and recycling bins right out the window of my office at home. I went outside to offer him some soda cans and glass bottles. Given its winter I asked him to come in. I noticed he had an interesting face, so I asked him if I could photograph him, to which he agrees. I asked him if he had a phone number, which he doesnt, so I propose to go to his apartment for additional photography. He warns me to wait a week before stopping by, his apartment being apparently unsuitable for guests. I tell him I dont mind, mess is always great photographic material.
I end up at his house this very evening, and he greets me completely nude. He immediately puts on some pants. Next comes his apartment: I have never, ever seen a mess so bad in my entire life. Dirt on the walls, things lying everywhere, cigarette buts on the floor The whole thing smelled of a horrible fusion of cigarette and sweat, all crammed in one, tiny room. I had trouble even moving through the place, and couldnt even make room for my flashes.
I talk with Léo, he is 57. His wife left him 26 years ago, but he still fondly remembers her. Hes an alcoholic, has 2 daughters, one of which hes never even seen. Hes done 15 years of jail and been a street bum in Montreal. I ask him why hes been in prison but he wont tell, finding it more suitable to tell the tale of when he stabbed his cousin. He shows me his 2 baseball bats and his enormous machete. I start to sweat and ask myself what the hell Im doing in a place like this with this guy. I convince myself not to be afraid, that theres nothing to fear. So I keep talking with him, taking pictures. As time passes by I realise he might be suffering from schizophrenia. I learn that he was in reform school at 14, I tell myself it evidently didnt work. He has this strange way of trying to dominate me, convincing me more and more that hes nothing but an old bum. I stay confident and show him that Im not scared and our relationship is on an equal basis.
His friend Sébastien arrives. If friend is the appropriate word for someone asking for money, that of which Léo has none. I use this opportunity to leave (Ive been there for more than an hour). He shakes my hand and holds it way to long and tells me hes the boss, and that hes scared of nothing. I am, though, so I leave right away. While walking back home I realised how stupid and naïve I was. Naïve to believe everyone is nice. Im scared of this guy, scared that he knows where I live. I called insurance the very next morning.
Haha. What a mad cat. Sorry to laugh but this story makes me happy. It reminds me of home. As crazy as my home is, I miss it so much. Thank you for sharing.
What an interesting portrait. You mention in your narrative that you thought he might be schizophrenic, and yet there's something very concentrated and aware in his gaze. I suppose the cognitive breakdown could be reflective in the state of his apartment. He looks deceptively innocent.
A bit scary story, though sad in a way.
Amazing photo.
What a story, almost had me to tears.
very moving!
Thank you for sharing.
great shots!