Two vendors at the Mexican stall
leaned close in quiet debate,
their words rising like warm spice
into the afternoon air.
Behind them, in the soft green hush
of Flagstaff Garden,
two women—one young, one weathered by years
turned toward my waiting lens.
The younger with curiosity,
the elder with knowing calm—
as if they had long understood
that every moment, once seen,
becomes a story.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1014
In Collins Arcade where echoes hum,
A hush beneath the city's drum,
Two pairs of women, side by side,
In monochrome where time won't glide.
Porcelain cups in slender hands,
Their words like soft, unspoken bands,
The steam ascends in gentle swirls,
Like secrets traded between girls.
Their laughter dances, light and low,
A thread of silk in morning's flow,
Melbourne’s heart, though far from home,
Beats gently where these voices roam.
No grand parade, no trumpet sound,
Yet in this stillness, strength is found
In every sip, each knowing glance,
An old world weaves into the dance.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 899
Beneath soft glow of city light,
Four voices stir the gentle night,
Outside a café, tucked away,
Off La Trobe where shadows play.
Four women laugh with easy grace,
The warmth of friendship on each face,
Their stories drift like jasmine tea,
Infused with calm and memory.
A breeze curls past, the hour late,
Yet still they linger, hearts elate—
Their languages in laughter blend,
Where night and kinship never end.
The city hums its quiet tune,
A silver hush beneath the moon,
While in that moment, clear and true,
The world feels kind and fleeting too.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out
On LaTrobe beneath the city’s glow,
Where midnight winds begin to blow,
Two shadows drift through silver air —
A pair unlikely, bold and rare.
The elder walks with practiced grace,
A powdered dream in satin lace.
Her gown — thick velvet, regal wide,
A princess lost, yet dignified.
She wears her age like royal thread,
Like Jennifer Coolidge, softly led,
A wistful spark behind her eyes,
A woman wrapped in old goodbyes.
Beside her steps a solemn guide,
A younger soul with priestly stride.
In robes of dark, with collar tight,
She walks like silence through the night.
The city watches, traffic sighs,
As time walks past in pale disguise.
A queen, a priest, a story spun,
Where streetlights blur and trams still run.
No need for reason, rhyme, or fame —
Just two in costume, none the same.
And in their pace, the world might see
A fleeting touch of mystery.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 856 and FACE OFF
