Melbourne Candid Series #1113 Latrobe St

 

Off LaTrobe Street, where trams glide past
And Melbourne hums its stories fast,
A window holds a quiet frame—
Two figures lit by candle flame.

Night presses soft against the glass,
As strangers in the dark hours pass,
But here, within this warm-lit cave,
A pause—the kind that silence gave.

He leans, his right hand props his face,
Time draped across him, slow and base.
Eyes half-lost in drifting thought,
In words unsaid or battles fought.

She bows her gaze toward the plate,
A woman caught in inward state.
The silver waits, the wine grows thin,
But she has turned somewhere within.

They do not speak; they do not smile—
They sit apart across the tile
Of linen white and shadows low,
Two souls in dinner's afterglow.

Outside, the city does not care,
It flickers, breathes, and fills the air.
But here—a stillness sharp and deep,
Like love that lingers, half-asleep.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 869

Melbourne Candid Series #1112 Latrobe St

 

Beneath a bleached and silent sky,
LaTrobe Street hums a mournful sigh—
The past, half-laced with soot and steam,
Unfolds itself like some half-waking dream.

He walks alone, a ciphered man,
In coat of dusk and twilight’s span;
A brimmed hat veils his spectral gaze,
A face half-lost in London's haze.

He bears the shape of myth unwound,
Of orphaned tales on hallowed ground,
And though no wand adorns his hand,
He moves as though he might command
The dust to lift, the bricks to speak,
The ghosts that gather once a week.

Behind him leans a weathered place,
A structure smudged with time’s embrace—
Its windows dull with decades’ grime,
Its arches carved by soot and rhyme.

He does not pause, nor glance behind,
A pilgrim stitched from page and mind.
Not Harry, no—but someone born
From ink, from fog, from books well-worn.

And all around, the grayscale clings,
As if to quiet magic’s wings—
Yet still he walks, and still we yearn,
For spells to stir, and clocks to turn.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 868

Melbourne Candid Series 1111 Latrobe St

 

Upon La Trobe where night is cast
In hues of coal and echoes past,
A figure sits in shadow's keep,
While neon stars above him sleep.

His hair, in silken tether tied,
Falls like a banner at his side.
Dark features carved by distant flame,
A face the lamplight cannot name.

He bends above a handheld glow,
A pilgrim where no paths may go.
His thumb—a slow, unbroken prayer—
Moves through a world that isn’t there.

Before him, drinks with straws remain,
Like artifacts of some refrain:
A meeting missed, a word unsaid,
Two vessels half-communion, dead.

No sound disturbs the quiet air;
The city hums, but does not care.
Its carriages in midnight slide,
While he sits still, and dreams subside.

Not solitude, nor quite despair—
But something hollow, thin as air:
The weightless ache of all things stalled,
When hearts grow mute and time is called.

Thus framed in grayscale’s careful art,
He waits, though not with open heart.
A man alone, yet not unknown,
Made myth by light, and straw, and stone.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 867

Melbourne Candid Series #1110 Latrobe St

 

In grainy hush of silvered gloom,
I stand above—cemented room—
a carpark edge, the frame is set,
the city's bones in vignette.

Below, three figures dressed in dusk,
carved sharp in light’s depleted husk.
Their shadows stretch, then fall away—
black ink that bleeds through paper gray.

Each head is bowed, each hand aglow,
white screens like lanterns lit below.
No mouths are moved, no glances shared,
they stand like statues, unaware.

Their outlines flicker—smoke and steel,
young men absorbed, half-lost, half-real.
A blur of light on faces drawn,
as if the night could etch them gone.

The street behind—bare, endless scroll,
no sky, no stars, just shadow’s toll.
And I, above, outside the frame,
watch silence pulse beneath their names.

It is a vision, stark and still—
a photograph the dark would fill.
Not loneliness, but something near—
connection shaped by static fear.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 866

Melbourne Candid Series #1109 Latrobe St

 

On La Trobe Street where the shadows lean,
Beneath the hum of midnight's sheen,
A bearded man with quiet grace
Plays to the dark in a softened place.

A beret tilts upon his brow,
Like Paris called but Melbourne now—
And glasses catch the streetlight’s flame,
Reflections dancing, never tame.

His fingers stroke the strings just so,
Each note a breath, both high and low,
A hush between the trams that slide,
A lullaby for those who bide.

No crowd, no stage, no bright acclaim,
Just city bricks and night’s acclaim,
And in that fleeting, fret-worn tune,
The stars seem closer to the moon.

He plays for no one, yet for all,
Each echo pressed against the wall,
A gentle hymn for those who roam—
The sound of distance feeling home.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 865

Melbourne Candid Series #1108 Latrobe St

 

Beneath the glow of neon skies,
On La Trobe where the tram line lies,
A café hums with twilight’s grace,
Its windows catch her earnest face.

She leans across the table low,
Where streetlights cast a golden glow,
One hand aloft, mid-phrase, mid-flight—
A flame of thought, alive with light.

Her words are wind, her fingers dance,
Each motion sharp, a bold advance.
The other girl, in silence steeped,
Watches her meaning slowly seep.

Espresso cools, the hour grows deep,
Yet neither bends toward rest or sleep.
The night, a stage of shadowed flame,
Records their truths without a name.

For here, beneath the city’s skin,
The realest talks of life begin.
Two souls in flare, one gesture wide—
A moment lit, then brushed aside.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 864 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1107 Latrobe St

 

An elderly waiter, time etched in his frame,
Leans with a slant, a quiet, thoughtful claim.
His eyes scan patrons in the softly lit space,
Each face a story, each pause a grace.

By LaTrobe Street’s hum and fading light,
He watches the flow of day into night.
Years fold in shadows that crease his brow,
A witness to moments unfolding now.

Silent sentinel in this urban tide,
He holds the tales that patrons confide.
In his slanted stance, both worn and wise,
The pulse of the city behind his eyes.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 863

Melbourne Candid Series #1106 Latrobe St

 

On LaTrobe Street where city hums and glows,
A lady walks, her footsteps soft and slow.
Her back to us, a bag swung by her side,
She moves with grace where bustling crowds reside.

Through glass and light of Melbourne’s evening gleam,
She enters in, a quiet, fleeting dream.
The restaurant’s warm doors part wide and clear,
Inviting her to moments held sincere.

In urban pulse where stories intertwine,
She walks unseen, a figure by design.
A glimpse, a step — the city’s gentle beat,
A dance of life where strangers and paths meet.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 862

Melbourne Candid Series #1105 Latrobe St

 

Young voices rise in evening’s hush,
Chopsticks set down in curious rush.
At an outside table, city light fine,
They lift the glasses, taste Western wine.

Laughter spills with each small sip,
Red on their tongues, a cultural trip.
Eyes squint gently at bitter delight,
Strange and bold in Melbourne night.

On Latrobe’s edge, where stories blend,
Tradition and new world gently bend.
In clinking glass and shared surprise,
A toast to wonder under southern skies.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 861

Melbourne Candid Series #1104 Latrobe St

 

On Latrobe Street, where night winds glide,
Three ladies sit on the porch outside.
Their laughter dances in the dusky air,
Beneath soft lamps with gentle stare.

By the bar, where windows breathe—
No glass to shield the night’s cool wreath—
Two ladies linger, drinks in hand,
Their voices hushed like ocean sand.

Melbourne hums a quiet tune,
Neon glow and silver moon.
Five souls in city’s evening gleam,
Framed in a poet’s fleeting dream.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 860

Melbourne Candid Series #1103 Latrobe St

 

Beneath the glow of Melbourne’s night,
On La Trobe where street lamps light,
A table hums with quiet cheer—
Chinese diners gathered near.

Their laughter soft, their voices low,
As city breezes gently blow.
Pasta twirls on lifted forks,
Steam rising up in fragrant corks.

Chili kissed the olive thread,
While stories in their language spread.
In bowls, a world both new and known—
Tradition met in foreign tone.

The night rolls on, a gentle stream,
Of noodle curls and shared daydream,
Where cultures blend in warm delight,
On La Trobe Street, deep in night.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 859

Melbourne Candid Series #1102 Latrobe St

 

Through glass, I gaze where lights softly gleam,
A penthouse perch above the stream
Of La Trobe’s hum, where city sighs
Rise gently under dusking skies.

Inside, a hush before the flare—
The kitchen stirs with quiet care.
White coats move in a measured dance,
A prelude born of skill and chance.

Knives whisper, steam begins to climb,
Cocktails shimmer, caught in time.
Laughter waits in crystal’s ring,
As chefs and waiters, deft, unseen,
Prepare the night’s unfolding art—
Each plate a story, every start
A promise scented, warm, and bright,
Beneath the Melbourne evening light.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 858

Melbourne Candid Series #1101 Latrobe St

 

He stands alone where night hangs low,
LaTrobe beneath a sodium glow.
A bearded face, both lost and tight,
Lit faintly by his phone’s pale light.

His fingers twitch, his eyes sink deep,
Into a screen that doesn’t sleep.
The city's hum just fades behind —
He’s scrolling through a restless mind.

The night moves on, but he stands still,
A shadow carved by aching will.
Addiction’s grip, both cold and kind,
Feeds silence to his wired mind.

The tram rolls past, a whisper gone,
But still he waits, still stares alone.
No message comes to break the spell,
Just endless scroll in digital hell.

A man, a street, a screen held tight,
Another soul blurred out by night.
And somewhere deep, beneath it all —
A human lost, still hoping to call.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 857

Melbourne Candid Series #1100 Latrobe St

 

On LaTrobe beneath the city’s glow,
Where midnight winds begin to blow,
Two shadows drift through silver air —
A pair unlikely, bold and rare.

The elder walks with practiced grace,
A powdered dream in satin lace.
Her gown — thick velvet, regal wide,
A princess lost, yet dignified.

She wears her age like royal thread,
Like Jennifer Coolidge, softly led,
A wistful spark behind her eyes,
A woman wrapped in old goodbyes.

Beside her steps a solemn guide,
A younger soul with priestly stride.
In robes of dark, with collar tight,
She walks like silence through the night.

The city watches, traffic sighs,
As time walks past in pale disguise.
A queen, a priest, a story spun,
Where streetlights blur and trams still run.

No need for reason, rhyme, or fame —
Just two in costume, none the same.
And in their pace, the world might see
A fleeting touch of mystery.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 856 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1099 Latrobe St

 

A flicker, a blur in black and white,
LaTrobe Street hums with ghostly light.
Figures drift through evening’s haze,
Like dreams that walk in city’s maze.

Costumes swirl in shadowed gleam,
Half-seen faces from a fevered dream.
Masks and laughter, heels that glide,
Through the grayscale pulse of Melbourne’s side.

Sequins shimmer, then disappear,
Caught in headlight ghosts that veer.
A cape, a crown, a tangled wig —
Moments vanish, faint and big.

No color names the scene tonight,
Just monochrome and borrowed light.
A party spills from time and street,
Where strangers in disguise all meet.

The tram-line hums a distant song,
While blurred legs dance the night along.
And memory holds what lens can't keep —
A moving dream, half-lost in sleep.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 855

Melbourne Candid Series #1098 Latrobe St

 

Beneath the hush of Melbourne’s veil,
LaTrobe Street hums, a shadowed trail.
Neon whispers on pavement wet,
I chase the ping — the order’s set.

Through chilly air and tramlight gleam,
A silent city starts to dream.
My tires hum a steady song,
The night is quiet, deep, and long.

A streetlamp flickers, breath is steam,
This ride’s not easy, nor extreme.
Just hunger waiting, time to meet —
A warm meal flying through the street.

Backpack snug and phone aglow,
I dodge the late-night traffic flow.
A swipe, a tap, the route is near,
The quiet thrum of hunger's cheer.

No grand applause, no curtain call,
Just footsteps echoing off the wall.
But still I ride, in cold and dark,
A silent spark through city’s heart.

For every dish and doorstep light,
A rider carves the pulse of night.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 854

Melbourne Candid Series #1097 Latrobe St

 

On Latrobe Street, where night chills bite,
A chap pulls on his jumper tight.
The breeze slips through the urban sprawl,
And winter whispers over all.

Beside him, in the lamplight's gleam,
Another sits, lost in his stream—
Of stories, laughs, a slanted grin,
A glass of spirit clutched within.

The clink of ice, the breath of gin,
The warmth that stirs somewhere within.
Though cold may creep through coat and bone,
He speaks as if he's not alone.

The city hums, the footfalls fade,
As if this moment's gently made—
Two friends, a street, the hour deep,
While Melbourne rocks itself to sleep.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 853

Melbourne Candid Series #1096 Latrobe St

 

Off Latrobe Street, where dinners bloom
Beneath the dusk and city’s plume,
An older woman takes her throne
In outdoor chair, yet not alone.

Her voice is clear, the speaker loud,
It cuts between the dining crowd.
She leans with ease, no rush, no care,
Half in the talk, half in the air.

An ear pod rests in her left ear,
A modern thread to someone near.
But still she lets the world all know
The tale she spins, both fast and slow.

Forks are paused, then meals resume,
As laughter swims through twilight's bloom.
Among the chatter, she holds her own—
A queen of talk in her evening zone.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 852

Melbourne Candid Series #1095 Latrobe St

 

On Latrobe Street where the echoes fall,
A winter hush cloaks over all.
A lady stands in noir attire,
Her voice a flame, her breath a fire.

Beneath her coat, the world grows still,
Each note she casts bends time and will.
Beside her, fingers strum the night—
A guitar sings of loss and light.

The city's pulse slows to her song,
A whispered place where hearts belong.
Footsteps pause in drifting air,
Drawn to music soft and rare.

In shadows deep, her chorus blooms,
A velvet sound that clears the gloom.
On Latrobe Street, the cold and gray
Are warmed by what her voice can say.

Sony A7RV 

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 851

Melbourne Candid Series #1094 Little Bourke St

 

An alley off of Little Bourke,
Where silence wraps the city's murk,
The night breathes low in amber hue,
Street lamps cast their solemn view.

Their golden halos gently fall
On cobblestones, worn smooth and small,
Each stone a story, soft and old,
Of boots and dreams, of hands grown cold.

Shadows stretch along the lane,
In quiet rhythm, soft as rain.
The city's hum is far, then near—
A breath, a step, a whisper clear.

Here secrets cling to brick and wall,
Where time forgets to move at all.
In Melbourne's heart, in hush and gleam,
The alley hums a half-lost dream.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 580

Melbourne Candid Series #1093 Latrobe St

 

Off Latrobe where city sighs,
a narrow shop in quiet lies.
The signs still blink, but softer now—
night has pressed its cooling brow.

Inside, two figures side by side
share sweet reflections, open-eyed.
A spoon dips slow through colors stacked:
green, red, gold beans gently packed.

"Three Traffic Lights," the menu said—
a playful name for what's been fed
through childhood lanes and summer's heat,
revived here on this quiet street.

The night leans in, the window's gloss
reflects them both in sugared loss,
as if the past had found a way
to join them in their glass parfait.

No need for talk, just taste and glance—
a small dessert, a brief romance
with memory, beneath the glow
of Melbourne’s hush and neon flow.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 849

Melbourne Candid Series #1092 Elizabeth St

 

Off Elizabeth, where neon hums
and tram-line dreams in silence come,
a storefront glows with muted grace,
its glass a veil, its light a face.

Inside, a stillness thick and bare—
few figures sit in twilight's care.
By tiled wall and table’s end,
they dine in hush, like time’s own friends.

Their shadows lean with gentle weight,
as if they’ve paused the hands of fate.
Steam curls soft from bowls held near,
warmth the only sound to hear.

No words disturb the breathing light,
just silhouettes against the night—
their stories hinted, not yet told,
in Melbourne’s chill, in silence bold.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 848

Melbourne Candid Series #1091 Latrobe St

 

Latrobe Street Evenings

On Latrobe Street, beneath the night’s soft sigh,
Where city lights like fireflies fly,
Three ladies sit where stories steep—
Outside the café, no time for sleep.

Steam curls from mugs of cocoa warm,
Their laughter weaves through twilight’s charm.
In shawls and smiles, the news they share
Dances gently in the brisk night air.

The trams hum low, the streetlights gleam,
Their words float out like part of a dream.
Between sips and secrets, time slips slow—
In Melbourne’s heart, under lamplight’s glow.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 847 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1090 Latrobe St

 

Late at night, where city lights gleam,
Two girls dine in a penthouse dream.
Menus chalked upon the floor,
Whispers of flavour, tales and more.

Above the world, in quiet grace,
They share a moment, time and place.
Soft voices blend with night’s embrace,
In that high-up, secret space.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 846

Melbourne Candid Series #1089 Melbourne Central

 

Two ladies share a quiet space,
Cakes and coffee, warm embrace.
Beneath a sign that shines so bright,
In Melbourne Central’s gentle light.

Laughter lingers, soft and sweet,
Moments simple, joy complete.
A pause in time, a friendship’s art,
Savoring more than just the tart.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 845

Melbourne Candid Series #1088 Warburton

 

Up Warburton Creek, where waters gleam,
A dog walker strides, shades cool as dream.
By his side, a loyal friend,
Together on the path they wend.

Joel stands right, a friend so true,
In nature’s calm, beneath the blue.
Simple moments, quiet and bright,
Walks like these feel just right.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 844

Melbourne Candid Series #1087 Swanston St

 

Three girls walk Swanston’s busy way,
Two masked to guard, in cautious sway.
A shadow lingers, unseen but near,
Yet friendship’s light shines bright and clear.

Through Melbourne’s streets, they move with care,
Aware, alert, a silent prayer.
In masks they wear, both shield and sign—
Of strength and hope through troubled time.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 843

Melbourne Candid Series #1086 Swanston St

 

Thick jumper wraps a weary frame,
A middle-aged man, no rush, no aim.
Down Swanston Street he drifts alone,
Among the crowds, yet still unknown.

The city hums, the footsteps blend,
Each step a story, no clear end.
In worn threads wrapped against the chill,
He moves through life, steadfast and still.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 842 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1085 Swanston St

 

On Swanston Street where city sounds swell,
An Indian man, mid-step, begins to tell
A story through static, phone to ear,
His laughter soft, but bright and clear.

On the other side, a cluster stands—
School kids with backpacks, restless hands.
Their eyes are lifted, faces aglow,
At something above they yearn to know.

Perhaps it’s a tram, or a statue’s grin,
Or clouds that dream where thoughts begin.
Each child still in a world so wide,
A marvel caught on the city’s side.

And in that frame, both calm and cheer,
Life strolls by in layers clear—
A street, a glance, a drifting tone,
Where moments meet but walk alone.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Check out Candid 841

Melbourne Candid Series #1084 Swanston St

 

A young woman drifts through the noon-lit stream,
Eyes aglow with a digital dream.
Her fingers dance on a glowing screen,
Unaware of the city's breathing scene.

A slender man with a luxury sway,
Carries brands like banners on display.
His coat is tailored, his pace refined,
Chasing desire by design.

An old man walks with eyes set far,
Past trams and shops and the coffee bar.
He sees the street as it used to be—
Before it buzzed with screens and spree.

The footpath hums beneath their feet,
Time unfolding on Swanston Street.
Past and present softly blend—
Strangers passing, end to end.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 840

Melbourne Candid Series #1083 Swanston St

 

A young man stood on Swanston Street,
With hopeful eyes and restless feet.
Magazines clutched in quiet plea,
A voice half-raised to beckon me.

I met his glance, then looked away,
A silent truth too sharp to say.
He saw it then—no words were said,
Just something gentle in the head.

A flicker passed across his face,
Not anger, just a touch of grace.
The kind that knows the world is wide,
And strangers often must decide.

The crowd flowed on, the trams rolled past,
Yet in that moment, time held fast.
A story paused, then moved once more—
A quiet echo from the core.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 839

Melbourne Candid Series #1082 Presgraves Place

 

One lady steps with careful grace,
A plate of pizza in embrace.
Steam curls above the golden stack,
As warmth and scent trail gently back.

Presgrave Place lies hushed and bare,
No footfalls echo on the air.
The walls lean close in quiet pride,
As if the past still walks beside.

No cars, no haste, no flashing sign,
Just cobbled calm and muted line.
A slice of life, a fleeting scene,
Beneath the sky's soft silver sheen.

Melbourne breathes a borrowed tone,
Its lanes like corners overgrown
From Paris, Rome, or tucked-away
Cafés that hold the light of day.

And here, in hush, with simple cheer,
The lady moves, the food draws near.
A little Europe, close to home—
A lane where wanderers might roam.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 

Check out Candid 838

Melbourne Candid Series #1081 Presgraves Place

 

Two men walk side by side with grace,
Their steps in sync on Presgrave Place.
A quiet lane, a pause in time,
Where stone beneath recalls old rhyme.

Beside them hums a coffee stand,
Its sign hangs low by weathered hand.
The scent of beans, the hiss of steam,
Drifts gently through a midday dream.

The pavement holds a classic tone,
Each slab a tale, each crack well known.
Their shadows stretch, then slip away,
As if the past walks on today.

No crowd, no rush, just muted sound,
In this small place where peace is found.
A hidden thread in city’s lace—
Two men, one street, one quiet pace.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 837

Melbourne Candid Series #1080 Swanston St

 

Down a classic lane off Swanston Street,
Where echoing steps and cobbles meet,
The ceiling arches, fine and grand,
Like lacework shaped by patient hand.

Soft light filters through the mellow air,
And whispers stir the café chair.
A few souls linger, cups in hand,
In no great rush, no strict demand.

They sip, they talk, or sometimes stare,
At passersby or simply air.
Each moment hangs in quiet grace,
A hidden world, a resting place.

While just beyond, the city swells,
With tram bells, calls, and market yells—
Here peace resides, a lane apart,
Where coffee warms both hands and heart.

Sony A7RV

FE 24mm 1.4 GM

Check out Candid 837

Melbourne Candid Series #1079 Flinders Station

 

Three men strode down Flinders Street,
Their steps in time, their silence neat.
The city hummed, the trams rolled by,
As clouds hung low in Melbourne’s sky.

The middle bore a light-strewn beard,
A gentler face, composed, revered.
Each side, his mates were cleanly bare—
No bristle marked their chins with care.

A curious sight in modern age,
Where stubble speaks of style and stage.
Yet here they walked, a quiet band,
As if from some more tailored land.

No phones in hand, no hurried pace,
Just shadows shifting into place.
And Flinders watched, with windows wide,
As three men crossed from time to tide.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 835 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1078 Flinders Station

 

Flinders Station, shades of grey,
Whispers stories worn away.
Stone and shadow, time stands tall,
Echoes move where footfalls fall.

A young man crosses, sleek and fast,
In monochrome, his moment passed.
Jacket crisp, his gaze ahead,
In silent film, where words are shed.

Past and present, black and white,
Merge and blur in morning light.

Sony A7RV

FE 35mm f1.4 GM

Check out Candid 834

Melbourne Candid Series #1077 Flinders Station

 

Two men alike, with mirrored face,
In Flinders’ shadow, find their place.
One upright stands, phone in hand,
The other sits, as if he planned
To mirror thought in silent air,
Twin figures lost in digital stare.

The station looms with urban grace,
Time etched deep in every face.
But to the left—a ghost in frame,
An Italian man, unknown by name.
In black and white, he walks alone,
A traveler through this monochrome.

Three souls, one frame, and time stands still,
Each chasing moments, each their will.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 833

Melbourne Candid Series #1076 Little Flinders Lane - next to St Paul Cathedral

 

By St Paul’s shade, where spires climb high,
A hush beneath the bustling sky—
Two souls in pause, a fleeting scene,
Among the stones and city green.

One stands in shorts, knee-length and neat,
The other rests with crossed-up feet,
A coffee warm within her hand,
As traffic hums across the land.

They talk of nothing, maybe dreams,
While sunlight dances off the beams;
A pocket space the world walks past,
But here, the morning dares to last.

Just off the lane where few things stay,
Two people meet, then drift away.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Check out Candid 832

Melbourne Candid Series #1075 Flinders Station

 

She stands—mid-fifties, style intact,
With sunnies dark and calm exact;
Her gaze turned right, as if to see
A truth beyond what ought to be.

A striped bag hangs with casual grace,
A story woven into place;
She waits, yet walks in stillness deep,
Where city noise forgets to creep.

Behind her, quiet in the sun,
Two figures rest, their waiting done—
One standing firm, one seated low,
As tides of strangers come and go.

The station looms, both grand and grey,
While people pass and drift away.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Check out Candid 831

Melbourne Candid Series #1074 Flinders St

 

He strides in suit with purpose bold,
A voice like brass in morning cold;
His words fly fast, a streaming train,
Across the street, through wind and rain.

In Flinders' shadow, trams glide past,
The crossing blinks, the moment lasts;
An Aussie leans, with coffee slow,
Unbothered by the urgent show.

A tradesman laughs, a banker sips,
As sunlight curls on city lips;
The rush of one, the calm of rest—
Each walking in the way they’re dressed.

So Melbourne hums, both loud and still,
A patchwork bound by common will.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Check out Candid 830 and FACE OFF

Luoyang Candid Series #1073 Luoyang China

 

Parade in Luoyang

In Luoyang’s heart, where ages sleep,
The cobbled streets their secrets keep;
And through the gate of ancient stone,
The echoes stir, the past is shown.

Men in robes of crimson thread,
With phoenix crowns upon their head,
Move proud beneath the lantern light—
A river flowing, bold and bright.

Their footsteps speak of kings and clay,
Of dynasties long passed away;
Yet here they march, in rhythm deep,
As if the land itself would weep.

Old town awakes in silk and song,
And time itself walks slow, and long.

Fujifilm Pro2 

16-55mm f2.8 

Check out Candid 829 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1072 Little Bourke St China Town

 

A chef in white with blade in hand,
Moves swift as silk, precise and grand;
The cleaver sings, a steely hum,
As golden skin and flesh succumb.

The duck lies whole, its journey done,
Crisped by fire, by craft, by sun.
Each stroke reveals a secret lore—
Of banquet halls and emperors’ war.

Steam rises soft in evening air,
Spiced perfume drifting everywhere;
And down the lane, the watchers wait,
Drawn close by scent, by luck, by fate.

On Little Bourke, where old meets new,
Tradition carves the world in two.

Sony A7RV

FE 24mm f1.4 GM

Check out Candid 828