The room likely remains white and silent. I'm getting ready to shoot a movie, start date is five weeks from Monday, so not a time of great loquacity.
I took this picture in Bugbrooke, on the canal by the train tracks. Something about the Mohawk and the stocky body and the angle of the rod and the delicate lure and the harsh surface of the water. I always wonder if I can really describe what is fundamentally intuitive about why an image works for me.