After taking a photograph of the empty lightrail tracks, Greg sets up a shot to catch the blur of a passing train. Sitting quietly, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. A man stands there, almost as if to wait for me to acknowledge his presence. I break the silence by asking him how he is doing. “I’m just looking for a quiet place to fall asleep.” I tell him about the parking garage we just came from, and that there were a few dry stairwells where he might find refuge for the night. I ask him for a portrait, “Maybe if you gimme a couple bucks for a coffee.” I realize I have no cash, and am frustrated that I didn’t think to bring some ones for such opportunities. I tell him, and he says nothing, turns around and walks towards the garage.