A harbour of cranes and moored hulls in coarse grain, patrolled by one stray dog.

Two figures kept in a sepia frame by a curtained window, their visit preserved like pressed flowers.

Behind lace, inside a picture frame, a figure fades at the speed of photography itself.

A capped profile studies dark water inside a polaroid’s white border — a river issued as identification.

A face rises through burnished copper, an engraving trying to remember being skin.

One white flower opens against blood-dark red, radiant as a small interrogation lamp.

A tiny monochrome collage floats in grey vacancy — faces filed away at archive distance.

In a room dyed blue a man sits at the foot of the bed, the chessboard beside him mid-game.

A sleeping head sinks into amber blur, dreaming the frame soft around itself.

A woman’s face fills the frame, eyes pressed shut around a word the film withholds.