The Speed of Light

Whenever I'm out shooting, and you can bet money on this, I end up in a wild dash across town to beat the parking meter.

It is at that moment I become oddly enough, like a lot of the poor slobs I photograph - under pressure to get some place with barely enough time to do it.

And equally oddly enough it is just at that moment I see people assuming strange wonderful postures, massing in complex geometric designs blowing interlocking back-lit smoke rings that waft ironically across erudite store displays.

Like runway lights whipping by an airplane window, somehow it is my motion, my mania, that generates these images. They exist in a parallel world where light rays shine on retinas but balk at glass - seen but seldom photographed.