October 14, 2026

Three days at the city's oldest market

The alarm went off before dawn, and by six I was already at the city's oldest market. I kept a paper notebook this time, writing down the time and the light for every roll.

Working with a borrowed medium format camera forces you to slow down. You think twice before pressing the shutter, and that changes the pictures. An elderly couple asked me to take their picture. I used their phone, then made one frame of them on mine.

I tried a few long exposures, but the wind had other ideas. The handheld shots turned out better anyway. I sat on a bench for almost an hour, just watching small boats change as the clouds moved.

The café near the city's oldest market still serves the same cinnamon buns; I had two and pretended it was research. Most of the morning went into watching fog; I took fewer frames than usual, but each one felt deliberate.

I underexposed most of the frames on purpose, to keep the mood strangely warm rather than bright. A light drizzle started around ten. I sheltered under a bus stop roof and photographed people hurrying past.

Nothing dramatic happened, and that was exactly the point.