I've written before about the farmer's market in Mountain View. Every Sunday that I'm free, I go there, buy a dozen raw oysters (half Miyagis, half Kumamotos), and sit at a table there and watch people walk by. I bring my camera every time I do this, in the hope I might get an image worth keeping.
I don't know what it is, but this place is my photographic Waterloo. I can take five photos, 50 photos, 200 photos -- good light, bad light, spring crowds, summer crowds, it doesn't seem to matter. Not sure if it's because it's too familiar with me, the people are just too bourgie, or just too focused on slightly overpriced locally grown organic food, or what. Regardless, my hit rate here is just abysmal, and I'm seldom happy with what I get.
I was thumbing through some unprocessed days in my Lightroom library for November tonight, and I noticed this image. Maybe it's my umbrella axiom ("they make things awesome"), but I love this one. I didn't see it until I looked at it again a few weeks later -- intense and creepy all at once in a way that grabbed me -- definitely one of, if not the favorite of my Farmer's Market photos.
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