I took the longer way home because the shorter one was too familiar. The rain had stopped a few minutes earlier, but every surface was still holding it: the curb, the windows, the roof of a car that had probably been parked there all night.
At the corner, a shop was open. Nothing happened outside it. No dramatic silhouette, no perfect stranger, no reason to lift a camera. I stood there anyway. For a moment the city made almost no sound, except the slow drip from an awning and a light buzzing above the door.
I took one frame. Then I put the camera away and kept walking. Looking at it later, I still can't tell you what I was trying to preserve. Maybe that is exactly why I kept it.
Some photographs are proof that you noticed.
This is the first thing in the archive. It is small enough to disappear if I don't give it a place.