I wake up early on most mornings, just before the night is gone, to watch the lights of the city through my window over looking a square. I play with the light to capture moments.

Many pass through underneath those lit columns on their way to the station. I watch their movements, the way their arms hold their luggage, their tired sleepy bodies.

Many are those stations in our fast moving world where we lack time to think of the travellers or of what they carry from one place to another. We won’t read the sadness of their goodbyes to loved ones or the joy of waiting to meet other loved ones.

Many are our journeys. Transitions are harsh. The city lights we walk through while leaving are beautiful.