Someone must have shared Josef K’s portfolio, for one morning, without having done anything truly self-promotional, he was lauded.
I am no longer an invisible photographer.
Somewhere in la Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a photographer lived not long ago, one of those who has a camera and a speedlight and keeps a bag of lenses and a tripod for shooting.
It was the best of photography, it was the worst of nothing, it was the age of sharing, it was the age of privacy.
A photograph has no beginning or end; arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.