There is an island of fog, just a step away from our world. A sea of shadows separates us from a fluid, gentle place of infinite possibility - a membrane - thin enough to pass through by osmosis, dense enough to swallow the world entire. Nothing I look at resolves into a single fixed view; the world reaches me as fog. The analog shots, taken with the Hasselblad 500C/M, carry within the negative the marks of uncontrolled development that layer over the scene as a second stratum of reality, or perhaps the first. The error is no accident but language that forms an irrepeatable object.
