A man makes his way through a crowded bar. He sees a small space, and a two-second window to squeeze through it. He places a hand on a man’s shoulder to pass behind him, and soon after, a hand on the small of a woman’s back to pass by her. An intimate act, taken quietly in front of many, he assumed a familiarity that was never earned. This is where it starts. Moments like these are where it starts to show its face.

​​In this time we are living—where we hit the order button and immediately look at the tracking info because we want what we want and want it now—patience is scarce.