Melbourne Candid Series #1142 Collins St

 

On Collins Street beneath the grey,
Where shopfronts line the silent way,
A youth stood still, mid city stream,
As trams rolled past in muted gleam.

She held a cup, still steaming white,
Its warmth between the morning light
And spoke, with eyes both bright and kind,
To one whom age had made refined.

Her silver hair, her coat drawn neat,
A cane beside her careful feet,
She listened as the young man said
Some gentle thought, some word unsaid.

The world passed by in shades of grey,
But in their pause, the time gave way
Two strangers held in quiet grace,
A fleeting moment, face to face.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 896

Melbourne Candid Series #1141 The Causeway

 

A bald waiter moves with silent grace,
Wiping down each coffee trace.
On the Causeway where footsteps blend,
He tends the tables end to end.

A flick of cloth, a tilted plate,
He works beneath the café's weight.
The city's hum, the clink of cups,
The morning slowly gathering up.

No spotlight shines, no curtain call,
Yet in his rhythm, dignity tall.
A quiet craft, no need for fame—
Just honest work beneath his name.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM 

Check out Candid 895

Melbourne Candid Series #1140 Exhibition St

 

A little boy rides his scooter slow,
Wheels whisper soft on streets below.
Across Exhibition, bold and wide,
He glides with wonder, dad by his side.

Monochrome holds the city still,
Time in grayscale bends to will.
Shadows stretch, the tram bells chime,
They move as if outside of time.

His father’s hand, a steady guide,
Through crosswalks where the moments bide.
A boy, a scooter, a world to claim—
In black and white, he writes his name.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 894

Melbourne Candid Series #1139 Hosier Lane

 

A middle-aged man on Hosier Lane,
With cobblestones beneath his stride,
A cap pulled low, sunglasses plain,
He walks where colours dare to hide.

One hand tucked in his coat’s deep fold,
The other swinging free and slow,
Through art-stained walls, both bright and bold,
He moves where silent watchers go.

The city hums, but he walks still,
A shadow shaped by time and will.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 893

Melbourne Candid Series #1138 Hosier Lane

 

On Hosier Lane where the murals breathe,
A man walks uphill with sunlight sheathed—
Gleaming shades on his silent face,
Each step wrapped in the lane’s embrace.

His wife beside, her hand in his own,
Two shadows stretching on cobblestone.
She leans like memory, soft and near,
He leads like time with nothing to fear.

The walls around burst wild with hue,
But they move quiet, just passing through—
A moment framed in a painted land,
Love uphill, hand in hand.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 892 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1137 Little Lonsdale St

 

On Little Lonsdale, under silver skies, he stands
A bald man in suit, with upturned eyes and hands.
A microphone clutched like a herald’s call,
Words poised to rise above city’s sprawl.

A leather strapbag hugs his side, worn deep,
Stories stitched in folds it’s sworn to keep.
The satchel slung with a scholar’s grace,
Heavy with maps of a wandering place.

He does not speak, but listens to air,
To trams that sing and the footfall’s prayer.
In the hush between towers’ glass and stone,
He finds a pulpit in being alone.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 891

Melbourne Candid Series #1136 Collins St

 

On Collins Street they walked as two,
Beneath the sky of cloud and blue.
Their steps were slow, their silence deep,
As though they bore a care they’d keep.

The husband wore his dark disguise,
His sunglasses veiling thoughtful eyes.
While on her head, in morning glare,
Her shades lay tangled in her hair.

Together yet each mind alone,
They wandered through the heart of stone—
In Melbourne's light, their shadows cast,
By present fears and echoes past.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 890

Melbourne Candid Series #1135 Swanston St (before winter this year)

 

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

Melbourne Candid Series #1134 Swanston St

 

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

Melbourne Candid Series #1133 Elizabeth St

 

A flash of lycra, vivid, tight,
A helmet gleams in morning light.
Down Elizabeth, swift and free,
A biker blurs like poetry.

The city hums, the pavement sings,
Wheels spin dreams on fleeting wings.
Steel and flesh in motion blend—
A rush, a roar, the street’s own friend.

Between the buildings tall and gray,
The cyclist carves a fleeting way.
With every pedal, swift and sure,
The pulse of Melbourne rides secure.

Sony A7RV

FE 135mm f1.8 GM

Check out Candid 887

Melbourne Candid Series 1132 Bourke St Mall

 

Laughter on Bourke

He sat in sun, a man of years,
With laughter loud that chased the fears,
In sunglasses, his joy a flare
That split the noon with blazing care.

Beside him, quiet, his small young son,
A shadow short beneath the sun,
Looked up as if to catch the fire
That lit his father's brief desire.

The street around, a surging tide,
With trams and heels and time's long stride,
Yet in that pause the world stood still—
Just sun and blood, and love’s goodwill.

A city’s heart beat all around,
But sweeter was that human sound:
A father's laugh, deep-cut and real,
That spoke what mouths can’t always feel.

On Bourke they sat, mid noon’s wide sprawl,
Two lives adrift, yet held by all—
By sunlight, kinship, breath, and grace,
And joy that time cannot erase.

Sony A7RV

FE 135mm f1.8 GM

Check out Candid 886 This has been one of the top 10 favorite posted on my blog here

Melbourne Candid Series #1131 Bourke St Melb

 

(Same poem as yesterday)

A youth with mullet trailing wild,
A cap hung low, the city’s child,
Stood firm where footsteps throng and blur,
His violin his saboteur.

With rosined bow and eyes cast low,
He summoned tunes both fast and slow,
Each note a cry, a silver thread
Unspooling dreams the street had shed.

Behind him flowed the tram’s refrain,
Its bell a chime through smoke and rain,
While cars crawled past in tangled streams,
Oblivious to his stitched dreams.

He played not for applause or coin,
But for the world he might rejoin—
Where echoes rise through autumn's breath,
And songs outlive the hush of death.

Bourke watched in greys and neon hue,
As music flared and nightfall grew.
The crowd passed by, then circled round—
A boy, a bow, defying sound.

Sony A7RV

FE 135mm f1.8 GM

Check out 

Melbourne Candid Series #1130 Violin player on Bourke St Mall Melb

 

A youth with mullet trailing wild,
A cap hung low, the city’s child,
Stood firm where footsteps throng and blur,
His violin his saboteur.

With rosined bow and eyes cast low,
He summoned tunes both fast and slow,
Each note a cry, a silver thread
Unspooling dreams the street had shed.

Behind him flowed the tram’s refrain,
Its bell a chime through smoke and rain,
While cars crawled past in tangled streams,
Oblivious to his stitched dreams.

He played not for applause or coin,
But for the world he might rejoin—
Where echoes rise through autumn's breath,
And songs outlive the hush of death.

Bourke watched in greys and neon hue,
As music flared and nightfall grew.
The crowd passed by, then circled round—
A boy, a bow, defying sound.

Sony A7RV

FE 135mm f1.8 GM

Check out Candid 885

Melbourne Candid Series #1129 Bourke St Mall (Summer before winter this year)

 

A Lady on Bourke in Greying Light

Upon the cobbles of Bourke Street fair,
Where trams do hum through autumn air,
A lady passed in monochrome,
Her youth aglow though shades had grown.

She walked alone, yet not alone,
For in her ears sweet tunes had flown,
A Walkman played its whispered song,
A timeworn tape that sang along.

Her tresses curled like drifting flame,
Though black and white concealed her name,
She bore her spoils in papered grace,
From shops agleam in city’s face.

A bum bag slung with no pretense,
‘Twixt fashion’s flair and innocence,
She paused beneath the falling leaves,
As dusk drew in on gentle eves.

No winter yet, but chill in shade,
The light grew thin, yet undismayed,
She danced in step with music’s flow,
A fleeting ghost from long ago.

And though the years may swiftly pass,
Like tramlines threading panes of glass,
Still in that frame she softly stands—
A song, a stroll, two listening hands.

Sony A7RV 

FE 135mm f1.8 GM

Check out Candid 884 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1128 Hosier Lane

 

In Hosier Lane where colours clash,
Where echoes bloom from spray can’s flash,
A man stood still with cap pulled low,
A camera poised, his eyes aglow.

The walls around were wild and loud,
A canvas shouting to the crowd—
Yet he, alone, in quiet stance,
Beheld it all as if in trance.

Each line, each stroke, each painted name,
To him was more than fleeting flame.
He sought the story, raw and true,
In every burst of red or blue.

No words he spoke, no sound he made,
Just shadows moved where light would fade.
The lens, an eye, both still and wise,
Caught truth in chaos, form in cries.

And though the world just walked on by,
He watched the wall like one who’d try
To read the soul of street and stone—
A man, a cap, a craft, alone.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 883

Melbourne Candid Series #1127 Flinders St

 

On Flinders Street in winter's breath,
Where light is low and still as death,
A family walked through morning's grey,
Their shapes cast long in soft decay.

One teenage boy stepped just ahead,
His gaze afar, thoughts loosely spread.
Behind, the father pushed the pram,
Its wheels in rhythm, slow and calm.

A younger child lay nestled deep,
Half-dreaming in a winter sleep.
The city's stir passed all around,
Yet peace within that pram was found.

The mother walked with silent grace,
Dark glasses veiled her watching face.
She turned to me—no smile, no frown,
Just knowing as she looked me down.

No need for words, no need for sound,
The tramline sang, the world spun round.
And in that frame of black and white,
They carried love through morning light.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 882

Melbourne Candid Series #1126 Hosier Lane

 

In Hosier Lane where shadows dwell,
And cobbled streets their secrets tell,
A man and woman paused their stride
To gaze into the sky wide-eyed.

Graffiti flared on every wall,
Yet they saw past the painted sprawl—
Not colours bold or rebel scrawl,
But something vast beyond it all.

Their heads were tilted, side by side,
Their breath a mist the cold supplied.
In black and white the moment stayed,
Two figures caught in light and shade.

What did they seek above the stone?
A passing bird, a world unknown?
The clouds perhaps, or trailing plane,
Or simply wonder, pure, unfeigned.

No words were said, no need to speak,
The silent sky was wide and bleak.
But in that hush, as time slipped by,
They touched the edge of winter’s sky.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 881

Melbourne Candid Series #1125 Swanston St

 

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

Melbourne Candid Series #1124 Swanston St

 

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

Melbourne Candid Series #1123 Swanston St

 

Beneath the sun on Swanston Street,
Where tramlines hum and footsteps meet,
A dad walks slow with steady hand,
His daughter close, a quiet stand.

Both clad in shirts of shadowed hue,
They thread the light the city threw.
The sun above, the world in gleam,
But in their clasp, a softer dream.

No words exchanged, no need for sound,
Their bond is stitched in steps and ground.
A fleeting glimpse, yet deeply spun—
Two shadows walking through the sun.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 878

Melbourne Candid Series #1122 Bourke St Mall

 

On Bourke Street Mall where the city hums,
And midday light on pavement drums,
A young man stands with cap drawn low,
Beside an elder, moving slow.

She rests upon a striped bench, still,
Her hands upon the frame she fills—
A four-wheeled guide through time and pace,
While crowds pass by without a face.

He leans in close, a gentle grace,
Perhaps a word, perhaps embrace.
No need for praise or loud acclaim,
Just quiet care without a name.

Among the trams and hurried feet,
Two lives in stillness gently meet—
A moment soft, of silent art,
Drawn not in speech, but open heart.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 877 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1121 Collins St

 

On Collins Street beneath the glare,
A man with short-cropped wind-tossed hair
Twists his body, leans askew,
As if the sun had split him through.

His eyes are shut, a fleeting shield
Against the blaze the noon revealed.
A T-shirt clings in summer’s heat,
A bag swings low with rhythmic beat.

Behind, the crowd flows like a stream,
Each face absorbed in its own dream.
But he, alone in this brief fight,
Moves through the shimmer, squints at light.

A moment caught—so strangely bright—
Of man and motion, sun and spite.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 877

Melbourne Candid Series #1120 Collins Arcade

 

Inside Collins Arcade, where shadows play,
A boutique glows in monochrome grey.
A gentleman stands, with a beard so neat,
In silence poised, his ritual complete.

Jars and flasks in orderly row,
Spices and oils with a fragrant flow.
His hands, like echoes of time gone past,
Move with care, deliberate and fast.

He measures, pours, then seals with grace,
As if each condiment held a trace
Of old-world charm and whispered lore,
Within that modest Melbourne store.

The arcade hums with ghostly tread,
Footsteps soft where dreams are fed.
And in that frame of black and white,
He works—a figure bathed in light.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 876

Melbourne Candid Series #1119 Latrobe St

 

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

Melbourne Candid Series #1118 Latrobe St

 

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 

Melbourne Candid Series #1117 Latrobe St

 

Beneath the dim of La Trobe’s light,
A man steps into Melbourne night,
His shadow long, his pace is slow,
Past rusted walls in lantern glow.

A weathered hat sits firm with grace,
Drawn low to guard his silent face,
The cobblestones echo his tread,
Like whispers from the days long dead.

The building stands with timbers worn,
Its frame of history cracked and torn,
A relic of some bygone year,
Still holding secrets no one hears.

He does not glance, nor turn around,
Just fades into the sleeping sound—
A figure draped in time’s own thread,
Alive with ghosts, yet half-way dead.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 873

Melbourne Candid Series #1116 Latrobe St

 

A woman, smuck smile playing coy,
Threads the night on Latrobe’s ploy,
Beneath the argent veil of gloom,
She weaves through shadows, soft as bloom.

Her presence—ghostly chiaroscuro—
Etched in black and white’s soft furrow,
A fleeting waltz of light and shade,
Where time itself seems dimly swayed.

Behind her, silent, stilled in breath,
A man absorbs the night’s bequeath—
That sly curl, that knowing gleam,
A whispered riddle, half a dream.

On Melbourne’s street where darkness sighs,
She moves—a secret in his eyes.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 872

Melbourne Candid Series #1115 Latrobe St

 

At night, just off LaTrobe’s long line,
Where windows glow with muted shine,
A restaurant hums with quiet grace—
A moment framed in time and place.

Inside, beneath the amber hue,
Where shadows soften every view,
An older woman nears a chair,
With silver thread upon her hair.

She moves with care, yet holds a light
That flickers gently in the night—
As if the years have bowed, not dimmed,
The quiet fire she keeps within.

A table waits—set four, not two—
With linen crisp and glasses dew,
And at its edge, a young man stands,
Delight cupped warmly in his hands.

His eyes are wide with welcome’s gleam,
His smile—a sun caught in a dream.
He greets her not with duty worn,
But joy, unpracticed and reborn.

And in that glance, a thread is tied,
Across the years, the lives, the tide.
No trumpet flares, no passer sees—
But something stirs, as soft as breeze.

For there, beyond the streetlight’s gleam,
Two hearts, in silence, start to dream.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 871 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1114 Latrobe St

 

From LaTrobe’s spine, a side street bends,
Where city’s edge and evening blends—
And there beneath the sodium light,
A gathering stirs the breath of night.

Outdoor tables, silver-clad,
Hold bowls half-full and glasses glad.
The diners speak in gentle rings,
Their laughter softened, fluttering wings.

But some have left their seats behind,
As if compelled by idle mind;
They drift among the chairs like breeze,
A loosened rhythm, aimless ease.

One lifts a glass, then walks away,
Another stands mid-thought, mid-sway—
As though the street itself might call
To taste the quiet in its thrall.

The waiters weave like ghosts through light,
Their trays afloat in charcoal night,
While overhead, the buildings lean
Like silent elders in between.

No haste, no hush—just human tide
That ebbs through Melbourne’s darker side.
A city’s pulse, low-lit, alive,
Where strangers sit, and stories thrive.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 870

Melbourne Candid Series #1113 Latrobe St

 

Off LaTrobe Street, where trams glide past
And Melbourne hums its stories fast,
A window holds a quiet frame—
Two figures lit by candle flame.

Night presses soft against the glass,
As strangers in the dark hours pass,
But here, within this warm-lit cave,
A pause—the kind that silence gave.

He leans, his right hand props his face,
Time draped across him, slow and base.
Eyes half-lost in drifting thought,
In words unsaid or battles fought.

She bows her gaze toward the plate,
A woman caught in inward state.
The silver waits, the wine grows thin,
But she has turned somewhere within.

They do not speak; they do not smile—
They sit apart across the tile
Of linen white and shadows low,
Two souls in dinner's afterglow.

Outside, the city does not care,
It flickers, breathes, and fills the air.
But here—a stillness sharp and deep,
Like love that lingers, half-asleep.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 869

Melbourne Candid Series #1112 Latrobe St

 

Beneath a bleached and silent sky,
LaTrobe Street hums a mournful sigh—
The past, half-laced with soot and steam,
Unfolds itself like some half-waking dream.

He walks alone, a ciphered man,
In coat of dusk and twilight’s span;
A brimmed hat veils his spectral gaze,
A face half-lost in London's haze.

He bears the shape of myth unwound,
Of orphaned tales on hallowed ground,
And though no wand adorns his hand,
He moves as though he might command
The dust to lift, the bricks to speak,
The ghosts that gather once a week.

Behind him leans a weathered place,
A structure smudged with time’s embrace—
Its windows dull with decades’ grime,
Its arches carved by soot and rhyme.

He does not pause, nor glance behind,
A pilgrim stitched from page and mind.
Not Harry, no—but someone born
From ink, from fog, from books well-worn.

And all around, the grayscale clings,
As if to quiet magic’s wings—
Yet still he walks, and still we yearn,
For spells to stir, and clocks to turn.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 868

Melbourne Candid Series 1111 Latrobe St

 

Upon La Trobe where night is cast
In hues of coal and echoes past,
A figure sits in shadow's keep,
While neon stars above him sleep.

His hair, in silken tether tied,
Falls like a banner at his side.
Dark features carved by distant flame,
A face the lamplight cannot name.

He bends above a handheld glow,
A pilgrim where no paths may go.
His thumb—a slow, unbroken prayer—
Moves through a world that isn’t there.

Before him, drinks with straws remain,
Like artifacts of some refrain:
A meeting missed, a word unsaid,
Two vessels half-communion, dead.

No sound disturbs the quiet air;
The city hums, but does not care.
Its carriages in midnight slide,
While he sits still, and dreams subside.

Not solitude, nor quite despair—
But something hollow, thin as air:
The weightless ache of all things stalled,
When hearts grow mute and time is called.

Thus framed in grayscale’s careful art,
He waits, though not with open heart.
A man alone, yet not unknown,
Made myth by light, and straw, and stone.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 867

Melbourne Candid Series #1110 Latrobe St

 

In grainy hush of silvered gloom,
I stand above—cemented room—
a carpark edge, the frame is set,
the city's bones in vignette.

Below, three figures dressed in dusk,
carved sharp in light’s depleted husk.
Their shadows stretch, then fall away—
black ink that bleeds through paper gray.

Each head is bowed, each hand aglow,
white screens like lanterns lit below.
No mouths are moved, no glances shared,
they stand like statues, unaware.

Their outlines flicker—smoke and steel,
young men absorbed, half-lost, half-real.
A blur of light on faces drawn,
as if the night could etch them gone.

The street behind—bare, endless scroll,
no sky, no stars, just shadow’s toll.
And I, above, outside the frame,
watch silence pulse beneath their names.

It is a vision, stark and still—
a photograph the dark would fill.
Not loneliness, but something near—
connection shaped by static fear.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 866

Melbourne Candid Series #1109 Latrobe St

 

On La Trobe Street where the shadows lean,
Beneath the hum of midnight's sheen,
A bearded man with quiet grace
Plays to the dark in a softened place.

A beret tilts upon his brow,
Like Paris called but Melbourne now—
And glasses catch the streetlight’s flame,
Reflections dancing, never tame.

His fingers stroke the strings just so,
Each note a breath, both high and low,
A hush between the trams that slide,
A lullaby for those who bide.

No crowd, no stage, no bright acclaim,
Just city bricks and night’s acclaim,
And in that fleeting, fret-worn tune,
The stars seem closer to the moon.

He plays for no one, yet for all,
Each echo pressed against the wall,
A gentle hymn for those who roam—
The sound of distance feeling home.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 865

Melbourne Candid Series #1108 Latrobe St

 

Beneath the glow of neon skies,
On La Trobe where the tram line lies,
A café hums with twilight’s grace,
Its windows catch her earnest face.

She leans across the table low,
Where streetlights cast a golden glow,
One hand aloft, mid-phrase, mid-flight—
A flame of thought, alive with light.

Her words are wind, her fingers dance,
Each motion sharp, a bold advance.
The other girl, in silence steeped,
Watches her meaning slowly seep.

Espresso cools, the hour grows deep,
Yet neither bends toward rest or sleep.
The night, a stage of shadowed flame,
Records their truths without a name.

For here, beneath the city’s skin,
The realest talks of life begin.
Two souls in flare, one gesture wide—
A moment lit, then brushed aside.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 864 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1107 Latrobe St

 

An elderly waiter, time etched in his frame,
Leans with a slant, a quiet, thoughtful claim.
His eyes scan patrons in the softly lit space,
Each face a story, each pause a grace.

By LaTrobe Street’s hum and fading light,
He watches the flow of day into night.
Years fold in shadows that crease his brow,
A witness to moments unfolding now.

Silent sentinel in this urban tide,
He holds the tales that patrons confide.
In his slanted stance, both worn and wise,
The pulse of the city behind his eyes.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 863

Melbourne Candid Series #1106 Latrobe St

 

On LaTrobe Street where city hums and glows,
A lady walks, her footsteps soft and slow.
Her back to us, a bag swung by her side,
She moves with grace where bustling crowds reside.

Through glass and light of Melbourne’s evening gleam,
She enters in, a quiet, fleeting dream.
The restaurant’s warm doors part wide and clear,
Inviting her to moments held sincere.

In urban pulse where stories intertwine,
She walks unseen, a figure by design.
A glimpse, a step — the city’s gentle beat,
A dance of life where strangers and paths meet.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 862

Melbourne Candid Series #1105 Latrobe St

 

Young voices rise in evening’s hush,
Chopsticks set down in curious rush.
At an outside table, city light fine,
They lift the glasses, taste Western wine.

Laughter spills with each small sip,
Red on their tongues, a cultural trip.
Eyes squint gently at bitter delight,
Strange and bold in Melbourne night.

On Latrobe’s edge, where stories blend,
Tradition and new world gently bend.
In clinking glass and shared surprise,
A toast to wonder under southern skies.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 861

Melbourne Candid Series #1104 Latrobe St

 

On Latrobe Street, where night winds glide,
Three ladies sit on the porch outside.
Their laughter dances in the dusky air,
Beneath soft lamps with gentle stare.

By the bar, where windows breathe—
No glass to shield the night’s cool wreath—
Two ladies linger, drinks in hand,
Their voices hushed like ocean sand.

Melbourne hums a quiet tune,
Neon glow and silver moon.
Five souls in city’s evening gleam,
Framed in a poet’s fleeting dream.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 860

Melbourne Candid Series #1103 Latrobe St

 

Beneath the glow of Melbourne’s night,
On La Trobe where street lamps light,
A table hums with quiet cheer—
Chinese diners gathered near.

Their laughter soft, their voices low,
As city breezes gently blow.
Pasta twirls on lifted forks,
Steam rising up in fragrant corks.

Chili kissed the olive thread,
While stories in their language spread.
In bowls, a world both new and known—
Tradition met in foreign tone.

The night rolls on, a gentle stream,
Of noodle curls and shared daydream,
Where cultures blend in warm delight,
On La Trobe Street, deep in night.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 859