Rain streaks the window of the late‑night tram,
and I catch my reflection—
half‑lit, half‑blurred,
a passenger caught in between:
Cinema lights sputter,
half the bulbs gone,
yet the pavement glows enough
to draw shadows forward,
figures drifting past
like fragments of a reel
spliced mid‑story.
The fairground stalls linger,
shutters rattling in the wind,
a lone vendor packs away
the last cones of cotton candy—
sweet air dissolving into night,
traces of laughter
cling to statued rides.
Conflict leans into silence:
not fists, nor shouts,
but the pause of a step
held too long at the corner,
a whole city waiting
for a stalled walker to move again.
.