Armed with meager confidence, I venture into a typical, gloomy night over an Eastside street. Flickering streetlamps faintly illuminate the road. Rows of dilapidated apartments line the desolate street, and I can just make out the contours of electrical wires in the sky above me. I have enough time for a brisk but cautious walk down this particular space, which is about to become the subject for some more artwork. For a moment, I can throw aside external thoughts and rid myself of stress.

Occasionally, lone, dim light fixtures interrupt the inky blackness, casting sickly, warm glows onto the asphalt. Yet, shrouded in darkness, I feel reasonably secure, much more so than in the daytime. With the camera already primed and sitting atop, I unfold the compact travel tripod as I amble down the back alley.

f/9, ASA 100. Not how one normally goes about night photography. Especially not in places I don’t fancy lingering around for a while. I fumble with the plastic remote — an instant later, the shutter opens with a distinct click that rings across the street. Another few seconds. The more time I spend here, the more I’ll get noticed. Waiting does give me valuable time for introspection. Or it would, if I wasn’t so preoccupied with what I’m doing.

There’s nothing quite like long exposure night photography.

I’m describing one of my many attempts to capture and express ideas I’ve been infatuated with for quite a long time — from here to Oakland to halfway across the world in Karachi. Something about this space has been drawing me back time after time.

The shutter snaps shut, signaling the end of the exposure and wrenching me back into reality. A cool breeze picks up, the only other disturbance apart from the constant, throbbing murmur of the electric lights.

Gallery • 6 Photos

Shay Lari-Hosain

Morning and evening, my lens points at the view, and my back is toward the skyscrapers, venture capital firms and tech giants.

This piece was originally published in the pages of Wingspan on January 28, 2015.