I've been shooting a series and I finally know what it's about, which took four months and two hundred wasted frames. It's about the last hour before a place closes. Diners at 10:50. Laundromats at 9:40. The record store when the guy starts putting things away but hasn't said anything yet. Fluorescent light plus the knowledge that you have to leave soon does something to people's faces that I can't get any other way. They stop performing. There's no point performing at 10:50, the audience is gone. The best frame I have is a woman at the counter of the diner on 4th with her coat already on, not drinking her coffee, just holding it. The waitress is out of focus behind her wiping the same spot. Nobody is doing anything. It's the best photograph I've ever taken and I took it by accident while I was checking my light. That's the thing about film I keep trying to explain to people. You cannot check. You can only be there, be ready, and find out in two weeks whether you were paying attention. That gap is the entire art form for me. Four more rolls and I'll have a show. There's a coffee place that lets students hang work for a month. It's not a gallery. There will be no opening. Somebody will spill on one. Come anyway.