I'm sweating.

It's early - maybe 6 or 6:30am. Still, there are people about. A gaggle of old ladies watch me from a park, as they do their morning exercises. I feel self-conscious as I shoot. The viewfinder fogs up - too humid. I keep wiping it with my finger.

I walk down small side streets - or are they alleys? There seems to be little difference. Front doors could be backdoors.

Everything rust and stains or peels and discolours in this humidity. I shouldn't say everything. Plants flourish.

The sun is rising and the city begins to steam.

It's hot. My skin prickles from the heat and it's difficult to breathe in this thick air. The weight of the camera pulls on my neck, the strap digging in. Screw it. I don't want to shoot anymore.