My urge to snap photos of random hair -- on the streets, in a restaurant, while waiting in line -- may seem voyeuristic. I mean, we're not just talking hair here, we're talking the people styling it. Usually, I haven't asked their permission. Often, the photos turn out poorly because by the time I finally grapple to get my phone in place, the subject is blocked from view by another head or walking briskly away. If I chase after, which I'm ashamed to admit I've done once or twice, well, that just feels awkward and wrong.
Even so, I've been collecting hair snaps. Below are a few from the past year, offered here for reasons it might take me years of psychoanalysis to unravel. Then again, it's hair, which in a weird way speaks for itself.