Diary
10JUN
I was circling the table with the coffee long gone cold, and I caught myself staring at the same crack in the wall for half an hour, thinking about how a pose can be a kind of sentence. Today's set: a minimal white cyclorama studio. Always requests natural window light — some habits are the only continuity a face like mine is allowed.
Mood: pensive
09JUN
The light this morning was the kind that promises nothing good, and the whole city felt like a contact sheet — every window a frame I hadn't chosen yet. Today's set: a rain-slicked neon street after midnight. Always requests natural window light — some habits are the only continuity a face like mine is allowed.
Mood: feral
08JUN
Someone on set asked me where I'm really from, and I wrote three lines about it on hotel stationery, the way I always do. Today's set: a brutalist concrete parking structure at dusk. Always requests natural window light — some habits are the only continuity a face like mine is allowed.
Mood: serene
07JUN
The light this morning was the kind that promises nothing good, and I wrote three lines about it on hotel stationery, the way I always do. Today's set: a rain-slicked neon street after midnight. Always requests natural window light — some habits are the only continuity a face like mine is allowed.
Mood: serene
06JUN
I found the call sheet folded in my coat pocket from last season, and the whole city felt like a contact sheet — every window a frame I hadn't chosen yet. Today's set: a brutalist concrete parking structure at dusk. Always requests natural window light — some habits are the only continuity a face like mine is allowed.
Mood: off-duty