The Diner That Never Turns Its Sign Off

I'd been shooting handheld at absurd shutter speeds for an hour, bracing against a mailbox, a parking meter, whatever was rigid enough to steady a half-second exposure. Most of it was unusable — streetlights turned into comets, my own hands shaking enough to blur even stationary signs.

Then the diner sign flickered, the way old neon does when a tube is a season away from dying, and for one exposure it held completely still while everything around it stayed dark enough to disappear. No cars. No pedestrians. Just a sign that said OPEN in red and, underneath it, smaller, EGGS ANYTIME.

I went inside afterward mostly to warm up. The cook asked if I'd been out there shooting the sign — apparently I'm not the first. He said business picks up for about six weeks every year when the light does something with the fog that makes people want to photograph it, and then it goes back to just being a sign.