Men, alone. Or in groups, but still alone. Facing away from each other – or, not so much away from each other as just facing different ways. Absorbed in their reading: numbers and words that are helping them make sense of what is happening in the surrounding environment. It is beautiful, by the way, the surrounding environment. It looks clean like concrete on a bright day looks clean. Very empty though. Space for everyone to stand or squat or sit on coloured plastic chairs looking at their newspapers that aren't really newspapers. When I say the surrounding environment, I mean a racetrack - a velodrome. I'm not trying to pretend it isn't a racetrack by describing the photographs as if it isn't obvious where they were taken. But I just want to recognise the strangeness of the photographs - as images, as situations - before we get any further. That's my first impression from looking at the photographs; of an out-of-time strangeness. But then maybe all photographs have that quality. Time removed from itself. The men in the pictures emanate this quality too, they are in-between one moment and another. They are frozen by the camera, caught considering their...