Late afternoon carries its usual drift,
a few steps folding into the next crossing,
someone adjusting their bag as they pass,
a shopfront glow shifting
when the door swings wide.
Nothing announces itself,
yet the street feels tuned to a low register,
as if each small motion were part of a larger pattern
that doesn\'t need to be named to be felt.
You keep walking,
letting the rhythm of the footpath set the pace,
not chasing anything,
just moving through a city that seems to breathe
in its own unhurried way.
.