It is not a job. It is the slow, accidental drawing of a map, one picture at a time, of the places a life passes through when it is allowed to wander. Photography is a habit of collecting time. Every trip leaves behind a residue of pictures, and over fifteen years the residue became an archive almost by itself. A camera is just the instrument I use to keep small pieces of ordinary time, the way some people keep tickets or coins.
sheet 14 · negatives 14–18A · unprinted hours
Nothing is staged. The frame holds whatever the moment put there, and I have learned not to argue with it. Each frame is simply proof that a particular moment happened, once, and that someone was there to see it.
Every photograph is an hour that survived. Most hours do not. That asymmetry is the reason enough to carry a camera.