Like an actor in full costume, this old man struts beside the Playhouse. I am intrigued by these people I discover when I’m roaming unfamiliar places at strange hours. Ninety percent of the time, I don’t have the guts to photograph them. Even less to talk with them.
“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more”