last song request.
03
The end of the night has always felt a little cinematic to me.
The crowd goes home.
The lights soften.
People clear the bar, stack chairs, count receipts, and slowly return to themselves.
This was one of those moments.
Watch the scene study below.
My local has quickly become a hub of music, creativity, and community. The kind of place built by people who care deeply about atmosphere—the food, the music, the people, and the feeling that something interesting might happen if you stay a little longer.
At the center of that night was Sahara.
Musician. Bartender. Curator of moods. Coulda been a chef, too.
The crowd had gone home. The storm had passed. There were only a few of us left: cleanup happening, calm, and one final song.
I try not to ask for song requests too often. Anyone who loves music knows that's a delicate art. But every now and then, at exactly the right moment, someone puts on a track that feels less like a request and more like a gift.
I've shot photographs and small films in that upstairs bathroom more times than I can count.
The racer stripe. The mirror. The strange glow of late nights. Something straight out of a Tarantino film.
Some places suddenly become part of your visual language. And some moments become part of your memory.
The song that night was about love.
Last song request.
“Some gifts are measured in songs.”
The archive continues on Instagram, whenever the mood hits ♡
(usually after midnight)
