 I lurk in the shadows of the normal world. A recorder of sins, I dwell in the gray of secrets and lies. I capture images of infidelity, and follow the printed trails of stolen promises. Nothing stays hidden from me, no matter how deeply it’s buried. I am a purveyor of all that is protected, and I am very good at my job. That is how I came to be on the fourth floor of an abandoned carpet warehouse with my camera on its tripod and a foam cup of coffee in my hand. A client, for whom I’ve done numerous jobs, asked me to keep an eye on his business partner. For the last four weeks, I’d tracked balding, middle-aged, Norman Bower from his lunch meetings to his handball ... |
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