I’m visiting a new town. Its streets, crowded during the daytime, soon wear me out. I head back to the hostel for a nap as the sun sets. A quick shower and a quick wipe of my camera’s lens. I slip three rolls of T-MAX into my pocket. Stepping outside, I feel the first pangs of hunger and thirst, so I look for a diner. One filled with locals suits me just fine. A few customers, probably laborers, are already drunk. Later, some white-collar workers join in. Drinking together, boozing together, the darkness of night peels away the masks worn during the day. We talk as if we’ve known each other for a long time. The best way to get to know a town.
I nearly forget that I’m carrying my camera—but nobody seems bothered by it anyway.
I step out of the diner and into the streets again. The time spent there makes me feel like I’m part of this place. I eventually reach a bar. I see I made the right choice, as it has some vinyls. I order some strong booze.
Tonight’s encounters bring back memories of the coal miners who lived back in my hometown. They were nice to me when I was a boy.