Photographing street people at night seems to me to be similar to the exercise of zen horsemen who shoot targets from horseback while at full gallop. There is little time for lengthy consideration. The arrow must be notched before the ride commences.

Whereas my mother transformed into an unrecognizable person three nanoseconds before the shutter did its work, many of these street folks are too tired and stressed to effect anything other than Thoreau’s “Quiet Desperation.” They’re not demanding but, with little embarrassment, they ask the questions which may keep them fed or clothed. They show you as well who they might be, perhaps, if they hadn’t lost most of what modern society desires and schemes toward.

From them it’s a gifted trust, to be allowed to photograph them where they live, to pass on. (click through)