It was home. I have always thought of it as a series of islands. It is such an immense, densely populated city. I knew the neighborhoods I lived or worked in, the bars and restaurants that became my extended living spaces. But that vast in-between traveled through to get from one to the other remained a mystery. Looking back, it is in these intervals between destinations, or non-places, that I left so much of my heart. I have always been fascinated by the idea that there is always at least two people in a photograph, the photographer and the viewer. The empty spaces of modern life, the lonely crowd, seem to highlight that interaction. The stories they hint at contain what we bring to them. There is something deeply personal in these impersonal spaces, an intimacy in the solitude. Frozen between ‘before’ and ‘after’, they are as Isaac Stern described music, “that little bit between each note-silences which give form”.