Melbourne Candid Series #1117 Latrobe St

 

Beneath the dim of La Trobe’s light,
A man steps into Melbourne night,
His shadow long, his pace is slow,
Past rusted walls in lantern glow.

A weathered hat sits firm with grace,
Drawn low to guard his silent face,
The cobblestones echo his tread,
Like whispers from the days long dead.

The building stands with timbers worn,
Its frame of history cracked and torn,
A relic of some bygone year,
Still holding secrets no one hears.

He does not glance, nor turn around,
Just fades into the sleeping sound—
A figure draped in time’s own thread,
Alive with ghosts, yet half-way dead.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

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