Bus stop, late afternoon
A woman in a bright yellow coat unfolded a newspaper like a small ceremony. Everyone else seemed to be half in the weather and half in a memory.
Field notes
Scenes collected while moving.
Harbor path
Low tide exposed the old ropes and a thousand tiny reflections. The path smelled faintly of kelp and rust and long afternoons.
Night market
Lanterns hummed in the dark, and every food stall felt like a tiny essential story: saffron, smoke, warm bread, and someone laughing in a language I didn't know.