Some parts of us never catch the train.
I wasn’t thinking about photography. I was just trying to keep up—with the day, the noise, myself. The city moved and so did I, but not always in the same direction.
Later, this photo felt familiar. Not because of what was in it, but because of what wasn’t. Figures blurred, edges smudged—like memories you didn’t mean to keep but couldn’t quite let go of. Like the residue of decisions not fully made.
There’s a kind of exhaustion that doesn’t show up in mirrors. A soft disorientation that feels like standing still while everything around you continues without you.
This image holds that feeling. The in-between.
The part where you’re already halfway gone, but no one’s noticed yet.
Maybe not even you.
