Behind the bar on Swan Street,
he pours silence as carefully as gin,
bottles lining the wall like held breaths.
Fruit waits, knives sleep,
and the night leans in
listening for what will be said next.
Sony A7RV
FE 24mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 1090
On Swan Street, night loosens its tie
glasses clink, voices lean close to light,
men bend over bowls and small talk,
while footsteps pass like brief commas.
The city breathes between tables,
and dinner lingers longer than the hour.
Sony A7RV
FE 16mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1089
On Brunswick Street, beneath a borrowed star,
A narrow bar keeps vigil through the day;
Lantern light and foreign letters are
Set gently where the southern shadows play.
The barman stands, intent, in measured grace,
Hands learning silence more than spoken art;
Each bottle waits, each glass retains its place,
As evening gathers slowly at the heart.
Sony A7RV
FE 24mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 1088
Along Brunswick Street, where evening settles low,
A window frames the hush of shared delight:
Three voices lean, like candles’ gentle glow,
Their words poured slow as amber into night.
Glass meets the bar; reflections fold and turn,
Inside and out exchange a fleeting truth
That talk, once kindled, asks no more than time
To make a moment whole, and briefly youth.
Sony A7RV
FE 24mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 1087
Beneath the canvas eaves of a village fair,
Where pine and stone remember older ways,
A stall stands brief as morning mountain air,
Yet warm with talk that binds the passing days.
The vendor leans, his sleeves rolled to the bone,
Steam ghosting up like breath in winter rain;
His hands have learned the grammar of the stone,
The iron plate, the grain, the patient flame.
Across the counter, finger poised mid-speech,
A traveler weighs desire against his coin;
Between them hangs a moment they both reach
Not trade alone, but something more benign.
Black ink of signs, like banners brushed with care,
Name humble joys: sweet corn, cheese, bread, and heat;
Such words, once spoken, season village air
Where hunger learns that waiting can be sweet.
No bell is rung, no temple drum is struck,
Yet here the everyday reveals its art:
Two lives converge by chance, by work, by luck,
And part again, each carrying the other’s part.
So markets bloom and fade like cherry trees,
Petals of talk and labor briefly sown;
In such small scenes, the village finds its peace
The world made whole where simple hands are shown.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 1086
A chap bears twin barrels, water dark and deep,
Across the street’s long breath he makes his keep.
Flagstaff Garden hums with measured tread,
Where time walks slow and leaves bow overhead.
The iron hoops sing softly as they sway,
A liquid weight that steadies night and day.
Each step a pact with balance, hand and spine,
A craft rehearsed where patience draws the line.
Around him carts and voices surge and part,
Yet stillness gathers in his quiet art.
So moves he on, through Melbourne’s shaded green,
A fleeting scene, yet old as what has been.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1085
On Flagstaff grass they gather, hushed and near,
With painted smiles that borrow from the year;
Small skulls in chalk, bright flowers pinned in hair,
A gentle masquerade of grief and care.
The children sit where shadows learn to play,
Their laughter stitched to rites once far away;
Thus life and death in borrowed faces meet,
And innocence makes even endings sweet.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1084 and FACE OFF
Along Flagstaff’s lawns, where noonlight drifts and stays,
They walk in quiet, measuring their days.
A carton cradled like a modest truth,
Greens and grain—the earnest fare of youth.
Her sleeve is folded inward, thought held fast,
As if the moment asks to not move past;
He studies leaves and flavors, small, precise,
As though the world were legible in rice.
Behind them trails the blur of other lives,
The practiced solitude the city drives;
Yet here, two shadows overlap the grass,
A private council as the minutes pass.
Garden paths, you learn this daily art:
That love begins in sharing, not in heart
In reading menus, walking side by side,
And letting simple things become the guide.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1083
Beneath the elms of Flagstaff’s patient green,
Where tramlines sigh and lunch-hour crowds convene,
A moment loosens from the grip of time
Salt, laughter, steam, a pause before the chime.
A paper-wrapped indulgence, raised in jest,
Breaks earnest hunger, breaks the day’s arrest;
His shoulders lean toward warmth not born of sun,
Her smile replies before the words are done.
Around them flows the city’s muted stream,
Footsteps and futures blur like half-formed dream;
Yet here, between the bite and shared regard,
The world grows kind, if only off its guard.
O Flagstaff lawns, you keep such truths in trust:
That joy is brief, informal, and just.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8
Check out Candid 1082
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1081 and FACE OFF
In Flagstaff’s hush, with painted grace,
A mother bends, the child looks down;
Their hands entwine in measured space,
Where life and death wear floral crown.
Through borrowed masks and gentle art,
Love teaches how the steps begin;
A quiet rite, passed heart to heart,
Where memory holds what time wears thin.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1080
Beneath the plane trees’ winter-bare refrain,
He walks where Flagstaff keeps its quiet trust;
A fleeting thought, a pause between the strain,
While time drifts past like leaves dissolved to dust.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1079
Beneath Flagstaff’s trees, where old paths bend,
A painted face turns, half-life, half-end.
Bone-white grin and living eyes,
The city pauses; a moment lies.
Steel rails, canvas shade, a borrowed skull
Mirth and mortality share the lull.
Among the leaves and passing sound,
Death is dressed, and life walks round.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1078
In Flagstaff’s hush of passing days,
He moves mid-step, half flesh, half sign,
A skull drawn light upon his face,
Death borrowing a mortal line.
A crown of blooms, a lifted phone,
The living world still calls him near;
Between the laugh, the bone, the tone,
He walks where joy and ending peer.
So gardens keep what crowds forget:
That life, well held, is brief, complete
A dance inked once, not finished yet,
Then gone, like footprints in the street.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Check out Candid 1077
Beneath bare trees of Flagstaff green,
They stand in chalked and petalled white,
Small skulls that smile where life is seen,
Soft laughter stitched to borrowed night.
Flowers crown both young and old,
Bone and blossom intertwined;
In painted death, the living hold
A gentler truth: we leave, we shine.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Check out Candid 1076
At Lonsdale’s light he waits, wheels held fast,
A small, still figure in the city’s flow;
Engines hum, impatient shadows pass,
While time itself turns amber, then lets go.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1075
On Lonsdale Street he pauses, black-clad and bowed,
A silvered arch of hat against the day;
Bone-stitched trousers whisper as he goes,
Steel wheels mark time where traffic has its say.
Between the rush, he stands—old ritual kept—
A lone, dark note the city has not swept.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1074 and FACE OFF
In Flagstaff Garden’s tempered light
He turns, a shield against the air;
Feathers arc like frozen flame,
And silence gathers at his stance.
The city blurs to watching eyes,
Its hours loosen, briefly stilled.
Old rhythms press through modern ground,
And grass remembers older feet.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
check out Candid 1073
In Flagstaff Garden’s measured green,
He stands where time has folded thin:
A shield of feathers, round and bright,
A painted face of dusk and bone.
The crowd recedes to murmured breath,
As ancient steps reclaim the ground.
Between the trees, the city pauses
And listens to a deeper sound.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1072
Beneath Flagstaff’s elms, where the city exhales,
A drumbeat rises through clipped lawns and stone.
Feathers tremble against the patient air,
Shells speak softly with each lifted step.
One foot strikes earth, the other greets the sky
A brief defiance held in muscle and breath.
Painted faces carry borrowed suns,
Old gods walking between lunch hours and trams.
The crowd stands still, as if remembering
That this ground once answered only ceremony.
For a moment, time loosens its modern grip,
And Flagstaff Garden listens, wholly awake.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1071
