In this foreign land it was impossible for me to photograph; as soon as I took out my camera I was pierced by stares, powerful, destabilising eye-contact. I had left for nine months, doing a graduation internship at a language institute, teaching French to young people in their twenties who lived on the edge of downtown, rising at five for my seven o'clock classes, telling me all sorts of captivating stories. Yet I managed to photograph, thanks to an old mobile phone with grain and shutter lag that in 2011 drew no attention, gaining invisibility; its grain felt strangely soft. I walked constantly, photographing ceaselessly, almost never stopping to frame, letting things come in the movement of walking, a movement that became a kind of dance; I read the Tao, detachment, non-action, and without this support of movement, dance and photography, the buildings, the constant noise, the loss of bearings would have become unbearable.