I walk like I don’t belong.
Eyes open, heart shut halfway.
Everything is noise, light, color… but mostly, timing.

Sometimes I feel like a thief,
sometimes like a priest.
Blessing the mundane.
Stealing the ordinary.

The street doesn’t care.
She offers and retracts, fast.
I don’t chase moments… I ambush them.
No plan, no mercy, no redemption.

It’s not about the real.
It’s just how it looked
for a second.

A.C.

HOW IT WAS, MAYBE

just how it looked for a second

Photos by Alex Coghe