He didnt look tired, he looked beaten. Maybe it was an argument with an ex wife about money. Maybe he was sick and losing his energy more and more each day. Maybe he was just tired of the routine. I pictured him moments before smiling at customers, trying to fake it, pretending that it was just another day. Lasting for as long as he could before walking away from the goods on his table to take off his mask. Was walking through a market in London and turning down a side alley I saw him sitting on his locker, head down oblivious to everything around him. The marketplace was loud and obnoxious, but the space around him seemed quiet and personal. The only disruption was the light shining through the gaps in the stall canopies, highlighting his grey hairs and tightly buttoned shirt. He was obviously trying to hide and I was the only witness. He held this pose for some time, head down on his hand with his eyes closed, calm and steady. I bent down behind an empty cart trying my best not to disturb him, paused and took the picture. I wonder what he would think if he knew I had this photo of him. Would he be offended? Would he be surprisingly appreciative that this moment, good or bad, was captured? Would it make hime feel valued or important? It feels odd having a photo of a stranger which means something to you, but might be invaluable to them, knowing the whole time that they will never even know it exists.