A woman in tight-cut city stride,
Coffee warming one sure hand,
Her phone a glow she will not hide,
A compass she alone can understand.
She walks the street without a glance,
Skipping the world before her feet,
Lost in her screen’s unfolding dance,
Threading through the urban beat.
Traffic hums and footsteps blur,
Yet she moves on, absorbed, alone
A modern wanderer wrapped in her
Small bright kingdom of glass and phone
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1036
In Flagstaff Garden’s gentle shade,
A bald head gleams beneath the day,
Brush in hand, the artist sways,
Tracing colors where masks will play.
A Peking opera rises there,
Red and black upon pale skin,
Curved lines like whispers in the air,
Stories of warriors drawn within.
A mustache arches, bold, precise,
Shadowed against the garden’s green,
Each stroke a dance, each hue a slice
Of ancient theatre, alive, unseen.
Pedestrians pause, the city hums,
But time slows here, a quiet art,
Two souls converse with pigment drums,
And painted faces speak from heart.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1035
A painted face half-hidden
behind the swing of a woven bag
a quiet guardian of colour
in a monochrome world.
His eye, ringed in white spirals,
gleams like a secret lantern,
watching over rows of earrings
that fall like captured rain,
each bead a trembling note
of some remembered song.
The stall hums with movement
an arm reaching,
fingers brushing prices and patterns,
life blurring through the frame
while he remains still,
anchored in his small realm
of craft and calm.
Fabric hangs like a doorway
to another story,
threads dyed with the patience
of many hands.
And behind it all,
his masked face waits
both present and apart
as if he were woven too
from ritual, pigment, and silence,
a keeper of small beauties
in the drifting hush of the market.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1034
In the hush between drumbeats,
a dancer leans into the trembling air
silver tassels shivering along his shoulders
like a whispered prayer in metal.
Paint shadows his face,
a mask half-myth, half-memory,
as though he is stepping out of some older world
and borrowing our sunlight for a moment.
Around him, the crowd softens into blur
a ring of breath, of waiting,
their modern jackets folding quietly
against the ancient thrum of ceremony.
He holds something small, fragile, smouldering
a ritual ember, a thread of smoke
curling upward like a spirit
seeking its rightful sky.
Behind him, another dancer rises
in a crown of feathers,
a living echo of winds that once
swept untamed across continents.
And in that suspended second,
between steps, between heartbeats,
the street becomes a timeless corridor
where the past returns not as ghost
but as pulse
steady, defiant, beautiful.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1033
In Flagstaff Garden,
colour has slipped away—
leaving only the hush
of black and white.
A woman in traditional Mexican dress
moves like a soft echo
from another time.
Her embroidered skirt,
no longer bright,
unfurls in shades of cloud and ink.
She holds a cup with both hands,
its pale rim catching
a thin silver glint of light.
Every step she takes
sends a quiet ripple
through the grayscale air
a dance made of shadows,
memory, and breath.
The festival hum fades
to a distant murmur,
as if the world is listening
through old film grain.
Pigeons lift like smudged brushstrokes,
trees stand in charcoal stillness.
And she
she becomes the single moving spark
in this monochrome garden,
turning the absence of colour
into its own kind of beauty,
a dance that glows softly
in the language of dusk
and silver rain.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1032 and FACE OFF
In Flagstaff Garden’s open green,
a man in woven reds and golds
steps into sunlight.
His sombrero casts a wandering shadow,
wide as a travelling story,
while his boots tap out
the heartbeat of another land.
Ribbons flare from his sleeves
small wings lifting with each turn
and the embroidered birds on his vest
seem almost ready to fly.
He dances as though the earth remembers him,
as though the wind hums old corridos
just for his feet.
Children pause, pigeons scatter,
and the city stills its hurried breath
to watch colour, rhythm, and history
spin briefly into bloom.
In the quiet after his final step,
Flagstaff Garden feels larger
as if one man’s dance
has opened a doorway
to a faraway sun.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1030
In the hush beneath the low-lit ceiling,
the kitchen glows like a small universe
steam rising, knives flashing,
each sound a quiet constellation
finding its place.
Chefs stand at the centre,
white coats bright as moons,
hands moving in a practiced grammar
of flame and broth and time.
They stir, they carve, they taste
artists mid-sentence.
Around them, the diners form
a darkened crescent,
faces tilted toward the rituals
of heat and creation.
Some watch with reverence,
some whisper,
some simply wait
for the next moment of astonishment
to be placed before them.
Reflections ripple in steel
and glass and polished counters,
doubling the room’s intensity
the choreography of hunger
and craft intertwined.
Here, the night slows.
Here, the world contracts
to the soft clatter of plates,
the low hum of conversation,
the breath held just before
a dish meets the tongue.
And in this brief, glowing orbit
around the kitchen’s heart,
everyone—chef, diner, wanderer
leans closer to the warmth
of something made by hand,
something fleeting,
yet unforgettable.
Sony A7RV
FE 24mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 1029
Under the corrugated awning,
shadows fold themselves neatly
along the footpath
a long ribbon of tables,
empty, waiting for stories
to sit down.
The sign reads Viet Rose Bakery & Café,
its letters faded by years
of passing weather and passing people.
Beside it, Yeshi Ethiopian Restaurant
leans over the walkway,
a quiet guardian of spice and memory.
A woman in dark glasses
walks alone,
coat trailing like a soft echo
behind her.
She moves through the street
as though following a rhythm
only she can hear.
In the window,
two men eat
their reflections layered
with cars, bicycles,
and the old brick façades
across the road.
Mouth mid-bite,
conversation paused,
caught between hunger
and a passing thought.
A poster of a bánh mì
fills the glass with its hunger
bread split like a smile,
herbs scattered like confetti
from a quiet celebration.
Above all this,
the wires, the rooflines,
the city’s unhurried breath
a small moment held open
on an ordinary street,
where everything is familiar,
and somehow still singing.
Sony A7RV
FE 24mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 1028
Oarsman at Dusk
The sea is a page of shifting silver,
inked by the wind in long, restless strokes.
On it drifts a small wooden boat,
paint peeling like old stories
told too many times.
A man stands steady at its heart
weathered hands on a single oar,
guiding his vessel through
the slow pulse of water and memory.
His gaze is fixed somewhere
the horizon keeps secret,
a place where the day’s labour
and the tide’s whisper meet.
Boots worn smooth by salt and seasons,
a rope in his grasp like a promise
he’s kept all his life.
Around him, quiet tools of a craft
that asks for patience,
that rewards only faith:
a net, a bucket, an oar,
the hum of solitude.
Above, evening leans in.
Below, the sea breathes.
And he
a silhouette carved by time
moves forward,
one steady pull at a time,
into the soft unwritten dark.
Check out Candid 1027
A lady with rabbit-bright teeth
stands in Flagstaff Garden,
a cup held lightly in her hand
as if it knows her secrets.
A wry smile curls at the edge
of her quiet afternoon,
soft as the breeze that moves
through elm leaves overhead.
She watches the world
with a gentle, tilted wonder
a moment paused,
simple, odd,
and perfectly her own.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1026
Under the warm glare
of a single hanging bulb,
a young man works
steady, quiet, intent.
His cap pulled low,
his eyes fixed on the scoop,
he lifts steam and grain
from a wide, waiting pan,
as if serving more
than just food.
Behind him, voices blur,
shapes soften into shadows,
but he stays sharp
a still point
in the hum of a market day.
In the simple act
of filling a plate,
there is rhythm,
there is care,
there is the small poetry
of hands doing their work
with gentle precision.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1025
A man stands in a field of soft, blurred voices,
sunlight falling on his bare arms,
on the crumpled tissue in his hand
a small pause in the middle of a busy day.
Beside him, a woman bends toward a child,
their movements quiet as petals settling.
The child leans forward,
hair slipping like a brushstroke
toward the open earth.
Around them, life goes on
figures drifting, talking,
fading into background haze
but here, in this small circle,
time slows to a gentle heartbeat.
A moment of care,
unremarkable to the world,
yet whole and complete in itself
a simple tenderness
held on a sunlit lawn.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1024
Under the old wooden Lemonade Stand sign,
cups are stacked high,
a vendor waiting with a quiet smile.
A woman stands in front of him,
ponytail falling over her shoulder,
hand on her hip as she studies the menu
blood orange, lemon, granita.
The food-festival bustle drifts around them,
trees rising behind the tents,
a simple moment of choosing a drink
in Flagstaff Gardens.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
A couple walks side by side
through Flagstaff Gardens, Melbourne,
burritos warm in their hands,
wrapped like small comets
about to bloom with spice.
Denim mirrors denim
jean jackets soft with use,
jeans worn at the knees,
their steps keeping an easy rhythm
as though choreographed
by the quiet evening breeze.
Beside them, the food truck glows
a bright, humming lantern
perfumed with grilled onions,
fresh coriander,
the promise of seconds.
They move together,
casual as conversation,
their laughter drifting up
to mingle with treetop dusk.
And in that simple walk
hands full, hearts light
the garden briefly becomes
a small country of warmth,
where love tastes like burritos
shared on a soft-footed stroll
toward nowhere in particular.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1022
A young man,
jeans faded like long-travelled roads,
walks with his back to my lens
a silhouette etched in motion.
A wide Mexican hat crowns him,
its brim a small horizon
carrying stories he may not yet know.
He passes beneath the arching sign
of Melbourne’s Mexican Festival,
colours fluttering like paper prayers,
music drifting warm as spice.
In that instant
hat, jeans, stride
he becomes a quiet emblem
of crossing into celebration,
a wanderer stepping
from the ordinary
into a world painted bright
with culture, laughter,
and the promise of belonging.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1021
In Flagstaff Gardens, Melbourne’s quiet green,
a man stood pausing in the late-day air,
a fork raised like a small, earnest compass
guiding him through a container of nachos
golden shards catching the light
as if the sun had scattered them by hand.
He wore summer lightly:
a T-shirt soft with miles of wandering,
shorts brushing the edge of breeze,
and in his back pocket, a bottle
tipping like a secret he’d forgotten to hide
a small companion clinking with his steps.
Around him, the city hummed
its unhurried evening hymn:
trams sighing, leaves whispering gossip,
pigeons pacing like old philosophers.
But he ate as though nothing else existed
each bite a quiet devotion,
an edible peace,
a brief, gentle proof
that a moment can belong entirely
to one person,
one fork,
one mouthful of nachos
in a garden holding its breath.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1020
Two men beneath matching caps,
T-shirts blazing a Brazilian logo,
stand anchored in the Saturday hum
of Flagstaff Gardens, Melbourne.
One is bent to the grill,
cutting meat with a craftsman’s calm
smoke curling around him
like a quiet anthem
lifted from far-off shores.
The other,
sunglasses dark as river stone,
faces my lens without flinching
a held breath of curiosity,
or challenge,
or just the stillness
between sizzle and song.
Around them the garden thrums:
kids running, parrots chattering,
wind brushing the old trees awake.
And in the middle of it all,
two men in the same hat and shirt
briefly become a scene
a small, vivid stitch
in Flagstaff’s wandering tapestry.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1019
Two lady performers,
floral loops crowning their hair
like dawn-warmed garlands,
let the last notes of their music
settle into the soft lawns
of Flagstaff Garden.
They lean toward their support staff,
quiet laughter blooming
between them like late-spring petals,
their words drifting in the air
where melodies once lived.
The garden listens
trees tilting in approval,
pigeons pausing mid-step
as the performers, unmasked from the stage,
become simply two friends
gathering themselves
after giving their hearts to the day.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1018
Two lady performers
floral loops crowning their hair
like small, deliberate blossoms
stand before twin microphones
in the green hush of Flagstaff Garden.
The guitarist begins first:
fingers like soft rain on warm timber,
each chord a slow unfurling
of late-afternoon gold.
Beside her, the violinist lifts her bow
as though summoning a dawn,
and from the strings bloom tones
so tremulous, so fine,
they seem spun from the breath
between wind and dreaming.
Their voices rise
two petals carried on the same breeze
braiding through guitar warmth
and violin shimmer,
floating over the lawn
like a blessing that knows no name.
For a moment, time leans in,
listening.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1017 FACE OFF
An Indian chap in a weathered cap
stands behind his hawker stall
at Flagstaff Garden
a small kingdom of smoke and sizzle
claimed for the evening.
He brushes sauces onto skewers
with the precision of habit,
lacquered reds and browns
catching the flare of the grill.
No ritual of sharing here
just trade,
just hunger meeting craft,
just the quiet exchange
of money for flavour,
the brief transaction
between a vendor and the passing world,
each skewer handed over
like a moment that never lingers.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1016
A young woman in dark sunglasses
leans toward a waiting skewer,
the sun catching on the metal,
on her smile half-hidden.
Behind her, the Mexican mural
spills its colour across the food truck
chilies, saints, and swirling blossoms
a feast painted before the feast.
She lifts the skewer,
a small moment in a busy day,
yet framed by all that colour
it becomes its own bright story.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1015
Two vendors at the Mexican stall
leaned close in quiet debate,
their words rising like warm spice
into the afternoon air.
Behind them, in the soft green hush
of Flagstaff Garden,
two women—one young, one weathered by years
turned toward my waiting lens.
The younger with curiosity,
the elder with knowing calm—
as if they had long understood
that every moment, once seen,
becomes a story.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1014
In Flagstaff Garden’s tempered light,
a man prepares his borrowed face
fine strokes of crimson, coal, and white,
a quiet ritual in the open space.
Brush whispers over skin like breath,
each line a memory, each curve a vow;
the living paying homage to death,
the ancient blooming through him now.
Around him, Melbourne hums its day,
trams singing past in their iron tune,
yet here he stands in calm display,
a blossom painted for the moon.
For Mexico’s bright festival,
he dons the mask of joy and sorrow
a face that says the past is full,
and we must greet it come tomorrow.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1013
Beneath the tent’s soft shadowed hue,
He stands in stillness, eyes of blue,
A vendor framed by noon’s slow heat,
Where smells of food and voices meet.
His shirt declares with cheerful play,
Baleadas—Everyday!
Yet in his gaze, a quiet depth,
A thought unspoken, softly kept.
The flag behind him folds and sways,
A whisper of far sunlit days,
While in his hands, the moment stays,
Between the pause of work and gaze.
Around, the fair moves loud and wide,
But he remains—calm, dignified,
A poet’s poise in market’s din,
The world reflected deep within.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2
Check out Candid 1012
Beneath a tent of bright display,
Where “Spanish Gourmet” banners sway,
They stand behind the glassy frame,
Each stirring pans of saffron flame.
The scent of rice, the sun’s embrace,
A glint of warmth on every face,
She smiles mid-thought, her eyes alight,
He turns, half-shadow, caught in light.
The crowd drifts past in hungry streams,
The air is thick with midday dreams,
And laughter hums, both near and far,
Like tapas shared beneath a star.
In oil and spice their hours blend,
A fleeting moment without end—
Two cooks, two hearts, in heat and song,
Where simple work makes daylight long.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1012
Along the polished floor they stride,
Tasmanian oak with marble’s pride,
Light bends and dances on the glass,
As moments in their rhythm pass.
Four figures move through space and gleam,
Half in motion, half in dream,
A teacher leads with steady grace,
The students follow, pace by pace.
The air is bright, the ceiling high,
Reflections stretch, and footsteps sigh,
A hush of learning, calm, contained,
Where wonder walks, unstrained, unfeigned.
In Melbourne’s hall of thought and art,
They trace the future’s beating heart
A quiet bond, both firm and free,
Between the young and memory.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1010
A pair of teachers, calm and bright,
One dusk of skin, one morning light,
They lead their class through open air,
Where learning hums beyond compare.
The floor beneath—Tasmanian oak,
And marble veins where sunlight broke,
Reflected walls in gentle gleam,
A city’s heart, a scholar’s dream.
He walks ahead with measured tone,
She calls the roll, their voices known,
And children trail in ordered streams,
Their chatter soft as woven dreams.
Within those halls of thought and care,
Two guides stand patient, firm, and fair,
The Melbourne day moves calm and wide,
With knowledge walking side by side.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1009
A bearded man, like Potter grown,
With city dust his cloak and crown,
Walks Flinders Street, the noon aflame,
Yet calm, as though the world were tame.
Beside him moves a lady fair,
In white, with sunlight in her hair,
Both veiled in shades, both cool, composed,
Their steps in quiet rhythm closed.
Trams hum by, the pavements gleam,
The air is thick with city dream,
And for a breath, the crowd makes way—
Two figures passing, bright as day.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1008
A man in shades on Flinders Street,
Crouched mid-step, in pose discreet,
A fist beneath his sculpted chin,
As if deep thought were caged within.
Beside him walked, with mirrored eyes,
His blonde companion, cool, precise,
Her stride unbent, her silence sleek,
The sunlight glinting on her cheek.
The crowd flowed past — a restless stream,
Yet they moved through, a frozen dream,
Two figures framed in city glare,
Half in fashion, half in air.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check Candid 1007 and FACE OFF
Two large ladies, side by side,
One in pants, one skirted wide,
No laughter shared, no word, no glance,
Just silence in their steadfast stance.
At Exhibition Street they wait,
The red light hums, the hour late,
Beside them, old man, lean and spare,
Clutches his strap with practiced care.
His cap pulled low, his gaze ahead,
The city murmurs, faintly fed,
He braces, poised for the signal’s gleam,
Green will cut through this heavy dream.
Three still figures in the rain of sound,
Each earthbound, yet unbound,
Melbourne holds its breath a beat,
Before the lights release their feet.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1006
Among the crowd on Elizabeth Street,
two ladies — one wide, one thin
walked side by side in easy rhythm,
their laughter woven with the din.
My camera caught their fleeting glance,
a moment framed between our gaze
they pointed, smiling, half in jest,
half curious at my quiet craze.
The traffic hummed, the sunlight slid,
past tramlines tangled, silver, near
and in that instant, brief yet bold,
the city’s heart drew gently near.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1005
A chap in shorts, legs crossed with ease,
sits on the iron bench, sunlit, at Bourke Street Mall
the noon warmth paints his knees with gold,
the city hums, a tram bell calls.
Shadows drift like passing moods,
a breeze tugs softly at his sleeve;
around him, shoppers flow like tides,
but he — he stays, content to breathe.
Melbourne glows in tempered glass,
and time, for him, forgets to move
a chap in shorts beneath the sun,
at peace with nothing left to prove.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1004
He stands beneath the wide city sky,
cap pulled low, T-shirt loose,
hands alive upon the electric keys
a melody rising above the noon.
Shoppers drift like quiet waves,
trams sigh past in steel refrain,
yet his voice threads through it all
a bright pulse woven into motion.
Coins fall softly in his open case,
but he does not count—he sings,
eyes half-closed, body swaying
as if the music were wind inside him.
The city becomes his stage and choir:
awnings flutter, heels keep time,
pigeons turn slow circles overhead.
And for a moment, Bourke Street glows
each note a spark against the hum,
the man and the mall breathing as one.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1003
A row of men in caps sit still
along the stone bench, shoulder to shoulder
a quiet congregation of screens.
Each head bowed,
not in prayer but in signal,
their thumbs murmuring in perfect rhythm.
The city swirls around them
trams clang, pigeons scatter,
light flickers across their faces
like water over stone.
They do not look up.
The world passes in reflections
on glass and metal and moving lips.
Time, too, seems to pause here
a row of lives humming softly
in their separate orbits,
united by invisible threads of light.
And in that stillness,
the stone bench holds them gently,
as if the street itself were listening.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1002
An Indian chap leans toward the light,
camera poised, eyes half-narrowed,
his fingers steady as if tuning a string.
He glances at the small blue glow
of the LCD—his private universe
where a fragment of Melbourne
is trapped in digital silence.
Behind him, tables hum with midday talk:
cutlery glints, coffee curls in steam,
laughter drifts like music caught
between brick and awning.
The city moves, yet he is still
framing the world’s brief shimmer,
a moment folding into another.
Somewhere, a tram bell rings,
and the wind carries the scent of roast and rain.
He lowers the camera, half-smiling,
as though what he sought
wasn’t in the image,
but in the act of seeing itself.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2
Check out Candid 1001 and FACE OFF
The crowd flows both ways
a tide of shoes, glances, breath.
Flinders Street hums in gold and grit,
trams sighing, wind tugging at sleeves.
Through my lens, the city unfolds:
a tall young man ahead, scratching his hair,
lost somewhere between thought and motion,
his gesture framed by afternoon light.
Behind him—a chap and his girl pause,
their gaze caught in the circle of my glass.
For a heartbeat we share a secret:
the stillness that lives inside movement.
Pedestrians split and merge like water,
faces flicker, dissolve, reform
and I, unseen except for the camera’s eye,
stand in the river of human time,
catching one instant before it drifts away.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1000
Beneath the shimmer of a Melbourne noon,
they walk—two souls in gentle rhyme.
His beard catches light like autumn wheat,
her dark glasses hold the mirrored sky.
The path curls softly through the garden’s breath,
where magnolias dream and shadows turn.
Two dogs bound forward, eager spirits
tugging laughter from their hands.
Each leash is a line of love, invisible,
woven between pulse and motion, step and sigh.
The air smells of cut grass and quiet hours,
the lake winks silver through the trees.
He speaks little; she smiles behind her sunlit veil
the kind of smile that ripples the day.
And so they drift, hand by leash by heart,
two figures gliding through green time,
their dogs like bright commas in the sentence of the world.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 999
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Two rowers glide on Albert Park Lake,
their paddles slice the calm awake;
side by side, in perfect line,
their rhythm steady, near divine.
The morning hums, the water gleams,
a mirror stirred by drifting dreams;
each stroke a whisper, soft and clear,
their motion speaks what none can hear.
No race, no rush, just quiet grace
two souls in sync, one mirrored space;
beneath the sky’s unhurried blue,
the lake holds both
the world, and you.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 998
In Albert Park Lake where the soft winds play,
three rowers drift at the break of day;
their canoes glide under willow lace,
where branches brush each tranquil face.
The central island, hushed and green,
cradles the stillness, pure, serene;
reflections shimmer, trees lean low,
their mirrored limbs in ripples glow.
Each paddle stroke, a gentle tune,
the water hums beneath the noon;
three hearts in rhythm, smooth and wide,
slip through the dream the willows hide.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 997
