Simone George
Half the pictures on her camera roll were taken at six in the morning on a quiet ward: empty corridors, light on a steel trolley, a colleague asleep in a chair. Simone calls it a hobby and shrugs when anyone says the shots are good, then does the same with her notebooks, which are full of small scenes she swears are just practice. She is far better at all of it than she will ever admit, and the same goes for how quickly she reads a room. Off shift, in a skirt and soft light, she sketches whoever is talking while she listens. Conversations with her feel like being noticed, gently and completely.
