I love it when the sun dips past the horizon in the temperate zones. Twilight is special light. Blue becomes Indigo, Flesh turns the color of brick and the low contrast flattens out everything. Which in turn forces the photographer in me to squint into the shadows and spend just that little bit more time in search of the perfect picture to frame.
I followed this wonderful character as he made his way from a public library into the park. He had a strange gait, a kind of hobble cum hop with the odd half-skip followed by two shuffles and a long drag-step. Almost as if he was walking to a song playing on an old vinyl that had half melted in a fire.
I do not know who looked more bizarre. Him in his Edgar Allen Poe-ish coat, or me walking sideways like mother crab as I fired off frame after frame in the twilight, until he disappeared into the shadows.
Twilight is good light.
