It started quite innocently — as most obsessions do. A snap of a painted truck here and spot of rural advertising there, on annual trips to the ancestral homeland. But soon the constant visual chatter of the Indian streetscape began to dominate my excursions. I scoured markets when they were closed in the hope of finding alluring roller doors on closed shop fronts. I would shriek at rickshaw drivers to stop over peeling billboards. Random strangers were enlisted to keep my parked scooter balanced while I stood on it to get a shot of an highly perched signboard.
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