When I shoot a roll of film, what I truly love is not the grain, alive and tactile, nor the colors born of the photochemical process, nor the nostalgic allure of an aesthetic so widely celebrated today. It is the quiet wait, the unknown that precedes the vision, that suspended moment in which images reveal themselves. It is the magic of unpredictability, the resurfacing of fragments of time, distant from one another, that begin to speak again and reassemble into a single, fragile realization.
