A moody lane off La Trobe’s line,
Where shadows stretch and wires entwine,
In monochrome the night is drawn,
A ghost of light before the dawn.
The cobbles slick with echoed rain,
Hold footsteps blurred, half lost in grain,
Each lamp a flicker, pale and stark,
Carves silver shapes into the dark.
No colour dares disturb the scene,
Just black and white and shades between—
A hush, a breath, the city bare,
As if the world forgot to care.
And yet, beneath that ghostly hue,
The night still whispers something true—
That even silence, dim and deep,
Can cradle dreams the dark must keep.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 875
