A capped young man meets the lens inside a sepia vignette, a passport photo from a gentler century.

A wall hung with small projected pictures — the film pinning up its own memory board.

Under a blazing worklight a night machine grinds the street, industry filmed as apparition.

A treeline surfaces from black fog like a coastline sounded rather than seen.

In yellow negative a figure waits beside a park bench while the trees burn white above.

In high-key fog a tripod silhouette and a small walker exchange distances — the photographer inside the photograph.

A figure bends through a blown-white field, sketched by the last grains the image can spare.

Three men on a couch lean toward a blue glow, a séance conducted by television light.

Brown fog banks over a faint valley, the landscape reduced to breath on glass.

A grinning face in furnace red presses to the lens, wearing delight like a horror mask.