Drip. Drip. Drip.
The rain had subsided; some final rivulets were arduously making their way through the gutters, sewers, waterways. Asphalt, still warm from the vanished sun, sighed steam. Detective Thompson saw none of it, heard none of it, brown eyes focused on a door across a busy street, waiting for a sign that she had hit her mark.
What's the use? We've searched countless times and nothing's come of it. Had he asked the rocks and briars for their advice, they would have told him to wait just a bit longer. They had seen much in their time (especially the rocks!) and this particular adventure had yet some time to go before it would run its course.
Bad coffee helps you think. Even though you may be thinking about an antacid and a toothbrush, you're still thinking. And right now, Adam needed to think, needed to wander the cobblestone streets, needed the comfort of silence. He had one week to come up with a briefcase full of monopoly money, one week to appease forces that had quite unkindly invaded his once-mediocre desk jockey life.
I've starting practicing nighttime shots as a fun exercise in seeing and creating interesting light, shadows, and stories. And I offer to you the possibility of your own portraits - unique senior portraits, engagement photos, Sam Spade cosplay, or whatever else may be up one's sleeves.
Are you working on a mystery that needs some complementary imagery? (Gosh, that's fun to say) I'd love to help you make that happen.