Mario is a Navajo man who wandered in to my gallery a couple of years ago with some pottery for sale. Luckily for him, I had some cash that day and was able to buy a nice piece from him. He had a striking profile, so I asked him to let me photograph him. He kept his eyes closed the entire time. I never learned much about him but, judging from his prison tattoos and clothing, I’d guess he has had a tough life. He was always very friendly and personable. I am sorry that, on his subsequent visits, I was broke and unable to buy from him. If I see him again, and I have cash, I will ask him to model for me.
davidscottmoyer 
Ya know something David?
I have many ‘Marios’ in my history.
I always did ‘right’ by them.
Hell! There was this one time in a bar in Dubai. There was a Mr. ‘Mario’ in the head. Dusting off ‘gentlemen’s’ jackets for coin. I gave him twenty dollar for handing me a towel. He ’bout shit his britches, and confided to me,
“Sir, I am here for my family”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “Wish I had one. Good health to you and your family.”
Such are the moments when one feels not so much the ‘Ugly American’.