It’s hard to take pictures of traffic. It’s hard to capture the heat, the boredom, the pain in your lungs from car exhaust. Return traffic is especially unpleasant when whatever trip you were on was unsuccessful. Your eyes half open, your bent neck trying to find a comfortable position, feeling insane from dehydration, you ponder the purpose of your research and why you are so bad at getting things done. You can’t believe you spent $26 in taxi fare just to go and come. You flick through your Nokia phone’s calendar, forgetting you had done so just seconds earlier, counting the number of days left until Sunday, that day when it’s socially acceptable to not try to do anything.