09 06 24
BLUE. FUNK. STREETS.
In the haze of the city,
where asphalt hums jazz,
I walk to the beat,
camera slung like a sax,
chasing shadows in the deep funk of dusk.
Blue Note whispers
from a crack in the pavement,
a groove under neon that flickers,
lost souls swing by
faces turned statues in the urban hymn.
My lens is tuned to the rhythm,
syncopated steps of strangers
who don’t know they’re dancing.
I catch them in mid-motion,
trapped between the downbeat and dawn.
The street is a stage,
cigarette smoke curls like a saxophone’s sigh,
while I focus on the lines of their stories,
sharp in monochrome,
blue, but not for sorrow.
Through the viewfinder,
the city is a symphony,
every shutter click a note
sharp, flat, soft, hard
and somewhere in the mix,
I find myself fading into the music.
