The menu system on many digital cameras is a labyrinth of options and sub options and sub-sub options. Functions are often called unexpected things and it's easy to switch on (or off) something that should be off (or on). The moon was bright tonight so it was time to turn off auto-preview (which is like shining a bright flashlight after every exposure, visible for half a mile) and set up the mirror lock up thingie which reduces vibration, and tie string around my tripod (so I can lower it to the ground on the other side, when I have climbed to the top of a fence to get in), then go take pictures by the light of the silvery moon.
Once in whenever I hear a siren (I never knew there were so many) I worry someone has phoned the police having seen 'something suspicious' (some of the new houses overlooking the site are occupied now) - I bring ID - or when I hear an unexpected noise in the vicinity I wonder if there's someone else in there, too (but looking for something more than just pictures), there's a lot of flapping, things creaking or banging that goes on in those places, when there's a breeze blowing, so it's a bit creepy. And maybe creepy that I now know my way around in the dark.
As I wander about I'm aware that I leave behind footprints and these odd triangles, of three tripod feet holes in the mud. Maybe they are noticed and examined by the foreman when daytime activity returns to the site - an inexplicable, zig-zagging between heaps of rubble, the half built homes and puddles. Traces of an irrational journey that makes even less sense when viewed under the light of the sun.
Once in whenever I hear a siren (I never knew there were so many) I worry someone has phoned the police having seen 'something suspicious' (some of the new houses overlooking the site are occupied now) - I bring ID - or when I hear an unexpected noise in the vicinity I wonder if there's someone else in there, too (but looking for something more than just pictures), there's a lot of flapping, things creaking or banging that goes on in those places, when there's a breeze blowing, so it's a bit creepy. And maybe creepy that I now know my way around in the dark.
As I wander about I'm aware that I leave behind footprints and these odd triangles, of three tripod feet holes in the mud. Maybe they are noticed and examined by the foreman when daytime activity returns to the site - an inexplicable, zig-zagging between heaps of rubble, the half built homes and puddles. Traces of an irrational journey that makes even less sense when viewed under the light of the sun.
