We float through the city like drifts of fog, carried by the quiet current of the everyday. Architecture stands unbending, yet we move through it weightless. Fragments instead of figures. The rituals of daily life — crossing, waiting, descending — dissolve into something almost abstract. Repetition softens our contours. The city does not confront us; it diffuses us.

In the haze, identity loosens. We are less portrait, more trace. We are, all of us, transient — brief echoes in the glow of passing light.