A flash, not of light — but of presence.

A face behind glass. A moment behind movement.

It shouldn’t have stayed with you. But it does.

Everything else moves too fast.

But one gaze lingers.

A stillness inside motion.

It’s not what you saw —

but what saw you back.

This photograph was made in the blink between arrivals.

The train never stopped. The street ad never spoke.

But together, they aligned — and something looked out.

It’s the kind of encounter you can’t prepare for.

It finds you in passing, and leaves a trace you can’t name.