The fog over San Francisco is like warm breath on a window. It prevents us from seeing anything else but what is near. Tenderloin wakes up slowly every morning, but never sleeps. The only ones with hunger suction is all these bedbugs, waiting for you. There are walking men, women, and shemales for dollars along Post Street in New Orleans. Chance draws in the mist in the lungs and the brain turns off. Who wants to remember yesterday or be reminded of tomorrow? There are small puppies close under the trees sucking on the pipes in Golden Gate Park. Dirty nails are talking about their escape. How they hunt, hunt to forget, to forget how they hunt. The day is calm and the skin is indifferent. Emotions are distorted and controlled behind the skin. To wake up here, or in this single room occupancy is far from the church, turkey and hugs. / Hannah Modigh The pictures are photographed 2009 in San Francisco, Death Valley, Yosemite & Redwood City, USA.