He walks wrapped up in a private storm,
Hands to his face like a fragile form
A cough, a sigh, or a secret kept,
While past him the city casually swept.
Behind, two stride in summer’s ease,
Unbothered by existential sneeze;
One shields his thoughts, the others don’t
The street, as ever, says “you won’t… or won’t.”
Sony A7RV
FE 35mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 1165
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