I can’t lie. I miss living in Surry Hills where most of my regular haunts were within walking distance. I don’t feel like I’ve quite adjusted yet to living in the Inner West, even though we used to be residents several years ago.
What’s different now from then? The most obvious difference is that I hadn’t discovered photography in those days, whereas now it’s the thing that gets me out of bed in the dark, and sees me roaming the streets for a… fix. If I don’t look through the viewfinder, if I don’t have my finger on the shutter, if I’m not assessing the lighting on its qualities, its shot-worthy-ness, if I’m not stalking a stranger because he’ll look good in my frame – then it’s just another day of mundane daily existence. (I can’t quite explain it, but the urge, the pull, the relentless need, to make pictures is real. I don’t know why I feel this way.)
I have been spending more time on trains and trams (a.k.a. light rail) since returning to the Inner West, and this post is a reflection of that, I suppose. The yawning man was a perfect expression of how I feel today.