Loganville, Georgia

As I was taking the last few shots of this church, a car pulled up and I had the pang of being caught doing something I shouldn't have. I took one last picture, tried to walk quickly, inconspicuously to my car.

"You can take all the pictures you want," he said with a grin.

"Oh-- well. I was just finishing...?"

"I've been going to this church my entire life." He raised his white eyebrows and added, "My grandfather started coming here in 1897."

I think he wanted to tell me more, but I couldn't shake the instinctual note of forced inconvenience I worry about with someone I don't know well, and I smiled, stuttered, started my ignition.

I wish I had talked to him more.

I want to say something, and it might be the same thing that he did.