Fellow photographer of the underground, Chris Stecher.
Chatting with Stech' over a couple of beers and the inevitable glass of Jack - shielding him from the clarity of the day, a singular character emerges from the smoke of his cigs.
Resolutely punk, his demeanour is the one of a beat poet and his photographs smell of the late-night spirit of venues where the rebel youth grows.
The man is like a rock, broken too many times but still made of the same stuff, still standing.
Chris happens to also be the man behind Précis Magazine.