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.
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FE 50mm f1.2 GM
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