Notes from the darkroom.

#4
on knowing

You keep going because motion forgives.

Each mile promises correction, another chance to make sense of it. But distance only multiplies the echo.

You learn by exhaustion that some pursuits collapse under their own weight. That presence begins where pursuit ends.

On the road, as in the darkroom, it takes practice to know when to stop.

When to say the exposure is right, the print is done, the story complete. There’s always the temptation to go again —one more try, one more fix.

You tell yourself it’s about getting it better, but sometimes it’s just about not knowing when you’ve gone too far.

Knowing when or where to stop isn’t drawn on any map. It comes up in you —that voice telling you to hold it right there; let it sit.

You steady your hands, slow down, come to a rest.

You see it —and stop.
That’s all it ever asks.