Many West Virginia two-lane state roads follow alongside rivers turning as they turn for miles on end. Route 20 South is no exception. As I negotiate the gentle curves, an apparition catches my eye. A man blazingly white and bare to the waist stands mid-river, a woman at his side. Both appear to be wearing only underwear. The late winter day is brisk, cloudy with temperatures hovering around 45 degrees. Hardly a day for a pleasant swim in the river.

I double back and park at a pullover a little way down from where they stand. As I approach, I see she is delicately drawing a razor across her partner’s cheek. I introduce myself and the man comes closer to the water’s edge. 

“I dunno. I don’t much like my picture taken,” he says.

The woman is young-ish, 20’s, 30’s, but her body does not look young, misshapen by perhaps grueling work, childbearing or just plain hard living. She looks at me brightly, smiles. “Actually, we’re showering here, so…” she leaves off.

I apologize for intruding and try not to appear shocked when, closer now, I see her body is covered with large bright red spots— chicken pox, small pox? Yet her face glows with health. I say goodbye and move on.

I pass their Chevy pickup on the way back to my Jeep. Piles of stuff fill the truck bed and an angry crack violates the front windshield. Homeless? Definitely without running water. This couple is down on their luck, to be sure.

I ponder as I head back to my cabin—why should I want to take a photo?  Perhaps to show my readers that this is what it is like for people down on their luck. This is real. This is not a film. A “there but for the grace of God…” moment?