Every so often I’ll take a photo and I’ll think, yes, this is the best photo I’ve ever taken. And of course I won’t know for sure until I get the film back and I’ll just hope and hope and hope for anywhere up to seven days that the light hit the film just right and the world will get to see what I saw: a moment in time when patterns emerge and lines and colours and light and shade are aligned and that I am the luckiest person because I got to see it.
This is one of those photos, taken on a Tuesday afternoon in San Diego while walking alone down suburban streets. After I took this photo I swam 1km in my hotel pool and then floated on my back and watched the clouds swirl in the wind like just stirred coffee and then tinge golden as the sun set. After I swam I drank whiskey in an empty bar and chatted to the bar tender whose name was Kevin and I felt glamorous for a while, maybe 30 minutes, probably less.