Melbourne Candid Series #1285 Swanston St

 

On Swanston Street, the light waits at amber,
a held breath between steps.
Trams murmur somewhere out of frame,
steel singing to steel,
while the city keeps time in crossings and bells.

He moves through the monochrome morning
as if the day has chosen him for its measure
hood drawn close, shoulders squared
against the ordinary weather of thought.
The word Nomadic rests on his chest,
not a claim, but a question.

Glass and stone blur behind him,
history smoothed to a soft hush.
Signals hang like small moons,
deciding nothing yet.
His stride answers for him:
forward, unhurried, exact.

This is Melbourne in a minor key
coffee steam lifting unseen,
lanes waking to their own names.
Each footfall writes a line
no map can keep.

And in the brief truce of the crossing,
before the city resumes its argument,
he carries a private horizon with him,
moving through Swanston Street
as if the street were moving too.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

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