Lines Between Stations
I took these photos on my way to the MRT, camera out like usual. It’s become a small ritual for me—pause for a second, notice what most people step over, and make a frame. Today leaned toward street photography and the little designs hiding in plain sight.
What caught my eye were the shapes and textures that repeat through the city. The striped aluminum threshold beside a glass door felt like a quiet metronome. A stainless pole planted on a speckled floor looked almost sculptural. A square utility plate, tilted on the curb, became a diamond the moment I changed my angle. And a bicycle’s bell, grips, and mesh basket brought soft curves to balance all those straight lines.
I kept everything in black and white to let form do the talking. Without color, the grooves, dots, scratches, and reflections step forward. It turns an ordinary commute into a study of rhythm—parallel lines, scattered specks, hard edges, and gentle arcs all sharing one frame after another.
This is the kind of photography that keeps me grounded: simple scenes, quick decisions, honest light. And it’s exactly how I want to start a 365 project—one photo a day, every day. Not chasing perfection, just training my eyes to see more and to appreciate the everyday patterns that make the city feel alive.
If I can keep this habit, by the end of the year I’ll have a quiet archive of moments between home and the next station—proof that there’s beauty in the routine, if we’re willing to look.
”To see in color is a delight for the eye, but to see in black and white is delight for the soul.”
Nice shots!