On Swanston Street where city sounds swell,
An Indian man, mid-step, begins to tell
A story through static, phone to ear,
His laughter soft, but bright and clear.
On the other side, a cluster stands—
School kids with backpacks, restless hands.
Their eyes are lifted, faces aglow,
At something above they yearn to know.
Perhaps it’s a tram, or a statue’s grin,
Or clouds that dream where thoughts begin.
Each child still in a world so wide,
A marvel caught on the city’s side.
And in that frame, both calm and cheer,
Life strolls by in layers clear—
A street, a glance, a drifting tone,
Where moments meet but walk alone.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
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