Some moments don’t burn in — they burn out.
I didn’t mean for it to look like this.
The light spilled in too fast. Or maybe I moved too slow.
Either way, something leaked—into the frame, into the moment.
And when I looked at the result later, it felt like memory.
Too warm. A little ruined. But honest.
Everyone’s still doing what they’re doing—walking, turning, disappearing down corridors of light—but there’s this hum beneath it.
Like time didn’t quite stick.
Like I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see,
or saw it too late to make sense of it.
I thought about fixing the exposure.
But then I didn’t.
Because sometimes, the light ruins things beautifully.
And sometimes, the mistake tells the story better than I could have planned.
