My teenage job was working in the darkroom at The Business, a weird little camera/book/record shop in Anacortes. I sat in the dark and listened to my Eric’s Trip and This Mortal Coil tapes and made black and white enlargements of peoples’ torn ancestor portraits, hunched over in the fumes and squinting through a loupe at grains of grey. I took h0me expired film and weird old cameras and always kept them with me from then on, even now. As life evolved into always traveling, touring, diving into the days, I took hundreds of pictures. Thousands? The 4×6” prints were taped to the bedroom walls, the door, the car, the guitar, everywhere.