Man, I hate it when my camera battery decides to give me the finger and retire for the day. All of a sudden, everything becomes a photograph untaken: a weathered “No Parking” sign painted on a brick wall; the Hispanic dude restocking the old-timey tabac display at Pastis; the morning sun hitting a shelf of thick glass bottles; the chubby, unshaven clown celebrating the new Gymboree on Fourteenth Street.