On my wall, black & white snapshots:
A man, hips cocked forward, stands dead straight, arms loose at his side. Your shadow slouches to the right of the doorway, caught in the act of falling backward and out of sight. In another, a man and woman stand by a totem pole; his head faces the camera's lens but also past it while the woman leans into the totem's wooden grin, grinning. Another: A Nativity scene shot out of focus, overexposed in an anonymous Southern California town. White glare on the paper maché figures in the pinched heat of midday. Is it a random lens that sees into the middle of things, salvaging light.