Three hours between flights. I was too tired to work, too wired to sleep, so I walked the terminal. SFO’s international side has decent light in the afternoon.
There’s a particular kind of airport photograph that I like — the mostly-empty waiting area, the person on their own in the sun through the window, the crew doing ordinary work under the wing. I don’t know if they add up to anything. But they’re what I take when I have a phone and three hours to kill.
