In Little Collins Street, he hides,
Shadowed by brick and whispered tides.
Earbuds hum a private stream,
A world inside, a hidden dream.
Footsteps echo, brisk and small,
Neon flickers against the wall.
A melody or talk drifts near,
Only he can catch, only he can hear.
Smoke of the city curls around,
Steel and glass, a distant sound.
Alley folds him like a secret note,
Music or podcast, on him it floats.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8
Check out Candid 955
A father bends,
hands fumbling in the bag,
searching for a small delight—
a toy, a sweet, a promise of care.
Beside him,
his daughter waits,
eyes wide as if the world
were stitched from his pockets.
Across the street,
a current of strangers flows—
heels striking, bicycles leaning,
faces turned toward their own errands.
Yet in the noise,
this quiet gesture blooms:
love measured not in grandeur,
but in the reach of a father’s hand.
Sony A7RV
FE 35mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 947
A man and his giant shadow of fur,
stride steady through the narrow street.
The dog’s paws echo like soft drums,
marking time against the city’s hum.
Bicycles lean,
cars gleam,
but it is the quiet bond between walker and beast
that bends the lane into rhythm.
People pass,
signs blur,
yet in this moment—
the city belongs to two companions,
carving their way through Melbourne’s breath.
Sony A7RV
FE 35mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 946
By Collins Arcade in the midday haze,
She sits alone in the city’s maze.
A cowboy hat crowns her thoughtful brow,
A queen of calm in the here and now.
Her apron drapes like a gentle tide,
An honest fold she does not hide.
Broad and still, in shaded grace,
She scrolls her phone at an unhurried pace.
The crowd flows by like a restless stream,
But she remains, lost in a dream.
Perhaps a message, a memory, a smile
She lingers there a little while.
In boots or heels, the city's fast,
But she is anchored, built to last.
A portrait drawn in quiet might
A lady of presence, broad as light.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 908
Beneath the sunless Melbourne sky, he stood,
A crew-cut crown above his collar’s hood.
In monochrome, the city stilled its breath,
As lens and light danced near the edge of death.
He held a phone—his compass, guiding grace—
Among the stone and steel, he found his place.
Little Collins hummed with hurried feet,
While ghostly echoes marched in blur and beat.
To left, the buildings bowed in warped delight,
Their edges twisted, bending out of sight.
No architect had dreamt such curving lines—
It was the shutter’s spell, not man's designs.
A fastened eye, wide-open to the day,
Had caught the moment men would drift away.
The sensor’s speed, in chasing fleeting form,
Distorted calm, reshaped the city’s norm.
To right, a Coles truck idled, humming low,
Its crimson name now cloaked in shadow's glow.
Behind the man, a tide of life did swell—
A straddled bag, a story yet to tell.
And in this frame of fleeting time and grace,
A world unmeant found stillness in its place.
The camera wept what eyes could never keep:
The dream of day now locked in grayscale sleep.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 821
