After discovering the works of Vivian Maier, I found a few neglected rolls of film waiting to be processed, and took a few new shots. There’s nothing spectacular or impactful in any of them, but I find such a quiet solace in first taking, and then scanning and adjusting each image.
Wanderings around the French Quarter. Yesterday, someone recommended to me that I partake in some hallucinogenic activities and walk through the Quarter at night. He said it was the only time the ghosts and the trash and the tourists make any sense to him.
I believe these last two of Ryan were taken on the beach at Santa Monica last fall. The roll was mostly exposed when the back of the camera opened in my luggage traveling home, but I managed to salvage these two. I remember watching the fog roll in that afternoon over the ocean and then the land, and it was so heavy and dense you could barely see in front of you. I had never seen fog that thick in all the years I had lived in California, something out of a novel, full of Lovecraftian beasties.
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