Stream of consciousness is comforting.
Sometimes it feels like you’re working with a small spread of photographs laid out on the floor in front of you. They’ve been taken on different days, with different cameras, and are of different people, or places, but you feel like there are these small threads spanning one to the other when you look at them – little leaps that can be made from image to image that keep the story rolling. The ending point is ambiguous. It can land definitively at a hard stop, or falter mid-sentence, hanging there waiting for something – applause, outcry, affirmation, you’ll never know. It doesn’t need you to.