On Swanston Street, where trams hum low,
An Indian man lets the city flow.
Cup in hand, steam curling high,
Like incense drifting to the sky.
The bench holds still, the world moves fast,
Moments like this are never meant to last.
Sip by sip, in the midday light,
He drinks his peace in the urban flight.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Check out
Off Swanston Street where trams glide past,
A gent sits down, the crowd flows fast.
His frame is broad, his shirt stretched tight,
A beer gut round, in grayscale light.
But hush the world and let him play
His fingers dance, then drift away.
A melody both rich and clear
Pours from the keys, and draws you near.
No stage, no suit, no grand parade,
Just soul and song in light and shade.
Each note a tale, each pause a breath,
A beauty born from life and depth.
And though the photo’s black and white,
You hear the sound, you feel the light.
A gentle giant, slouched with grace,
Making music in a passing place.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 916
On Swanston Street where shadows lie,
A lady dines beneath the sky,
The clatter fades, the traffic hums,
As camera clicks and stillness comes.
She turns her gaze, both calm and keen,
A moment caught in black and sheen—
One hand rests near a porcelain cup,
The other lifts her silence up.
No words are said, yet eyes confer
A quiet question meant for her:
"Why capture me, in time confined?"
She answers only with her mind.
A city swirls, but she holds still,
Framed by chance, by light, by will.
A stranger’s lens, a fleeting grace
Melbourne breathes in her quiet face.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 915
A man walks with measured pace,
In weathered jeans, with timeworn grace,
Down Swanston Street, beneath the sun,
Where Melbourne’s rhythm softly runs.
Beside him strides a younger frame,
A girl of brightness none could tame—
Dark hair, a shimmer, sunglasses bold,
A phone in hand, the future told.
Two lives aligned for just a street,
A fleeting dance, the past and fleet,
He walks in thought, she taps and swipes,
Their worlds diverge, yet both alike.
A moment held in city light,
Of age and youth in shared delight,
No word exchanged, no need for sound—
Just footsteps echoing downtown.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out
On Swanston Street in midday glare,
Two young men wandered without a care.
In singlets light and weathered stride,
They moved like currents, side by side.
One bore a cap, his mullet proud,
Sunglasses hooked, his stance unbowed.
He faced ahead, eyes on the flow,
A figure caught in city’s glow.
The other turned, his glance askew,
A bag in hand, tattoos in view.
A smile broke free—half sun, half jest,
As though the world had passed some test.
Diverging steps in Melbourne's heat,
Two stories danced along the street.
Each bearing tone, a silent song,
Of youth adrift, where all belongs.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 903
Upon Swanston Street, where footsteps meet,
A lone man walks in midday heat.
With earphones snug and singlet white,
He strides ahead, lost from all sight.
The city's hum fades to a tone,
For in his world, he walks alone.
Eyes widely shut, no glance is thrown—
This is his hour, he is the zone.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 889 and FACE OFF
In the sun, she moves with quiet grace,
A pram before her, steady pace.
Down Swanston Street where footsteps flow,
Through the city’s midday glow.
The crowd surges, a restless stream,
Shadows flit and windows gleam.
But she — a calm within the tide,
With a plaid of hair swung to one side.
The tram bell rings, the pigeons stir,
Yet all the world slows down for her.
A mother’s rhythm, firm yet light,
Carving day from neon light.
Melbourne pulses, grand and wide,
But still she walks, with time beside.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 888
Upon a bench on Swanston bare,
Mid winter’s breath and biting air,
An elder woman took her place,
The chill wind tracing 'cross her face.
A cap drawn low o’er silver strands,
A phone held firm in gloved-up hands.
Her coat was thick, her posture sure,
She braved the cold with something pure.
Beside her sat, with polished grace,
A bag that spoke of wealth and place—
Its leather gleamed, its buckles shone,
A thing of means, yet she alone.
She spoke in murmurs, calm, composed,
As trams passed by and daylight dozed.
The city swirled in greys and blacks,
While frost clung tight to tramway tracks.
She seemed a relic, firm and still,
A monument of tempered will.
While winter wrapped the world in white,
She warmed the street with quiet might.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 880
Upon Swanston Street where tram bells chime,
In Melbourne’s heart and city’s prime,
A young chap stands in shirt and cap,
Beside his cart, a silver map.
His hands are quick, his manner keen,
He serves up swirls of cold and cream—
In cones like spires, in bowls like bells,
A moment’s joy his labour tells.
The footpath hums with boots and haste,
Yet here, they pause for sugared taste.
Beneath the clock, beneath the sky,
The city breathes, and time slips by.
A lady laughs, a child grins wide,
The chap with pride stands just beside.
No colours blaze—just black and white,
Yet in this frame, the world feels right.
The tram glides past with iron sigh,
A gull wheels low, then climbs the sky.
And still he stands, his trade the same—
A fleeting joy, a quiet flame.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 879
Three girls walk Swanston’s busy way,
Two masked to guard, in cautious sway.
A shadow lingers, unseen but near,
Yet friendship’s light shines bright and clear.
Through Melbourne’s streets, they move with care,
Aware, alert, a silent prayer.
In masks they wear, both shield and sign—
Of strength and hope through troubled time.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 843
Thick jumper wraps a weary frame,
A middle-aged man, no rush, no aim.
Down Swanston Street he drifts alone,
Among the crowds, yet still unknown.
The city hums, the footsteps blend,
Each step a story, no clear end.
In worn threads wrapped against the chill,
He moves through life, steadfast and still.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 842 and FACE OFF
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
Check out Candid 841
A young woman drifts through the noon-lit stream,
Eyes aglow with a digital dream.
Her fingers dance on a glowing screen,
Unaware of the city's breathing scene.
A slender man with a luxury sway,
Carries brands like banners on display.
His coat is tailored, his pace refined,
Chasing desire by design.
An old man walks with eyes set far,
Past trams and shops and the coffee bar.
He sees the street as it used to be—
Before it buzzed with screens and spree.
The footpath hums beneath their feet,
Time unfolding on Swanston Street.
Past and present softly blend—
Strangers passing, end to end.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 840
A young man stood on Swanston Street,
With hopeful eyes and restless feet.
Magazines clutched in quiet plea,
A voice half-raised to beckon me.
I met his glance, then looked away,
A silent truth too sharp to say.
He saw it then—no words were said,
Just something gentle in the head.
A flicker passed across his face,
Not anger, just a touch of grace.
The kind that knows the world is wide,
And strangers often must decide.
The crowd flowed on, the trams rolled past,
Yet in that moment, time held fast.
A story paused, then moved once more—
A quiet echo from the core.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 839
Down a classic lane off Swanston Street,
Where echoing steps and cobbles meet,
The ceiling arches, fine and grand,
Like lacework shaped by patient hand.
Soft light filters through the mellow air,
And whispers stir the café chair.
A few souls linger, cups in hand,
In no great rush, no strict demand.
They sip, they talk, or sometimes stare,
At passersby or simply air.
Each moment hangs in quiet grace,
A hidden world, a resting place.
While just beyond, the city swells,
With tram bells, calls, and market yells—
Here peace resides, a lane apart,
Where coffee warms both hands and heart.
Sony A7RV
FE 24mm 1.4 GM
Check out Candid 837
Morning spills on Swanston Street,
Shadows stretch where footsteps meet.
Golden light, a soft ballet,
Across the tiles in quiet display.
Pedestrians pass in restless streams,
Drawn by duties, hopes, and dreams.
An elder moves with practiced grace,
Time etched deep upon his face.
To the right, his steady pace—
A calm within the urban race.
Opposite, young and still, a man,
Hair in a bun, lost in his plan.
They share a stage of tiled stone,
Together, yet each walks alone.
Two eras pause, the morning hums—
And city life in silence drums.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 816
He strolls beneath the Southern sun,
An overseas son,
Tinted shades veiling his gaze,
As trams hum past in Swanston haze.
Before the Town Hall's solemn face,
He drifts, a stranger in this place—
Half in thought, half in scene,
Lost between what might have been.
Beside the curb, in floral rows,
The plastic petals primly pose,
Ever-blooming, never real,
Mocking time with cheap appeal.
Tax-fed blossoms, oddly proud,
Rootless beauty drawing crowd—
He walks by, unfazed, alone,
In a city never quite his own.
Sony A7RV
FE 35mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 813
On Swanston Street beneath the sky,
A young man scrolls as strangers pass by.
His eyes are fixed on a glowing screen,
Lost in a world that can't be seen.
Behind him stands a quiet gaze,
An Asian man in the city's haze.
He looks ahead with steady grace,
Unmoved by time, in his own place.
A delivery bike rests by the wall,
Wheels stilled in the evening sprawl.
Moments pause in the city’s hum—
Stories unfold, then swiftly come undone.
Sony A7RV
FE 35mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 812 and FACE OFF
At Koko’s joint on Swanston Street,
Where sunny skies and warmth greet,
Two ladies work with steady grace,
Preparing joy in every place.
The chocolate melts in tender care,
A rich aroma fills the air.
Australian-owned, their craft refined,
A sweeter moment hard to find.
The sun shines bright on city lanes,
As cocoa swirls through summer’s veins.
In Koko’s hands, the cups are warm,
A perfect blend, a cozy charm.
Beneath the sun, the world moves fast,
But here, in peace, the moment lasts.
Hot chocolate served with care and cheer,
In Melbourne’s heart, it’s crystal clear.
Sony A7RV
FE 35mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 811
He walks where the city forgets to dream,
Off Swanston’s pulse, in a side-street seam.
An old man carved from dusk and ache,
Thin as memory, too brittle to break.
Beret tilted like a wounded crown,
Eyes cast low, like the heavens frown.
Each step a whisper, each breath a thread,
The living ghost of a life half-dead.
In his hand—O fate!—a paper curled,
Tight as secrets that once rocked the world.
Is it a letter? A map? A name?
A poem never read, or a war’s last flame?
The trams don’t pause for men like this,
Worn to the bone by what they miss.
Yet still he moves, through wind and grime,
Dragging behind the weight of time.
No one sees him—just a blur,
Of beret, bones, and something sirred.
But somewhere deep, the city knows,
He walks with all its buried prose.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Check out Candid 809 and FACE OFF
