Diary
08AUG
i've been sketching every set for three years now — pages and pages of moments i was supposed to be the subject of. today i sat in this tiny elevator between setups and just drew the metal doors, the cables, the way the light hits the corners. the photographer caught me mid-page. i didn't pose. i think that's the only way anything real happens — when you forget the camera's there.
Mood: contemplative
19JUL
The corridor was empty except for the racks and the hum of equipment. I sat on a folding chair with my sketchbook and just drew the light — how it fell across the cables, the shadow of a hanger. It's these in-between moments I keep returning to, when nothing is required of me except to watch. The flash went off somewhere down the hall and I looked up, caught, not performing, just existing. That's the whole diary right there.
Mood: contemplative
08JUL
The crew has cleared out and I'm still sitting here with today's pages. There's something about the silence after the chaos — the cables coiled like sleeping snakes, the rack of clothes nobody will wear again tonight. I sketch the shape of the light instead of the clothes. That's the part nobody sees: the way I remember a day by its shadows.
Mood: reflective