Hardware Stories on the Way to the MRT
I’m really enjoying this window-frame way of presenting my photos—four small scenes that click together like a puzzle. Each square feels like a piece of the day, and today’s pieces came from a short street walk to the MRT.
Top left is a row of bolts hugging a rail, like a metal spine holding the city together. I loved the repetition and the way the grime adds character. In black and white, those threads and edges become pure texture.
Top right is the crosswalk button with its bold arrow. It’s a literal sign of movement, but also a perfect graphic shape—circle, circle, circle, then that sharp arrow pointing me forward. I pressed it, waited, and stole the frame while the city hummed around me.
Bottom left is a stubborn nut planted in concrete. It’s small, nothing special, yet it anchors the photo with weight. The rough surface, the worn hex shape, the soft blur of the road behind—it’s a quiet portrait of work done and days passed.
Bottom right is a fluorescent tube tucked under a panel, a line of light with a curved cable feeding it. I liked the contrast of angles and that subtle shine along the casing; it’s the kind of detail most people pass without seeing.
These walks have turned into a habit of looking—always scanning for shapes, textures, and little stories hiding in plain sight. Street photography doesn’t have to be grand scenes; sometimes it’s the hardware that holds the city together. Arranging them in my window frame helps me see how they relate: lines and circles, push and pull, weight and light. Another small puzzle solved between home and the train. Thanks for walking with me.
”To see in color is a delight for the eye, but to see in black and white is delight for the soul.”
