"Like the CCTV cameras that recorded the double mugging of two late–night revelers caught in a slipway between London's Charing Cross and the Royal Festival Hall, their looped sequences speak to an unfathomable disappearance. This is the type of photography that records what isn't seen. Only the commissioning of crime or the onset of catastrophe elevates surveillance into evidence and orders the scrutiny that transforms description into narrative. Recording nothing at all, we watch as nothing passes, aware that in its passing, we, like Godot, are awaiting the experience of something that may never have happened and may never happen yet. Before us is the conceptual structure of an event from which all eventfulness has been removed. Drama and chronology can become fictive remembrances entirely of our own making" (Wakefield, pgs. #130–131).