This is almost the same as improvisation in jazz. And it’s very familiar and close to me, as I was a rock musician in the past.
The basement is so suffocatingly hot and humid from the sardine-packed writhing bodies that the walls are dripping with sweat.
I realized a long time ago that as a Photographer, one was indeed a collector of memories, not just my own, but of all the people I photographed.
How do I describe what light means to me, falling on faces, buildings, land and urbanscapes, or, just in its own state of being?