There's a quiet magic in wandering city streets with a camera slung over your shoulder. No plan, no destination — just open eyes and a sense of curiosity. That's how I stumbled upon this moment on Brick Lane in East London. A lone figure stepped into a sudden slash of sunlight, caught perfectly between shadow and illumination. I raised the camera, fired one frame, and just like that — the moment passed. It's one of my favourite kinds of images. It's not staged, not predicted, just real life doing what it does best when no one's watching.
A Play of Light and Timing
There's a natural geometry in this photograph that I couldn't have designed if I tried. The diagonal line of light slices across the frame, transforming a simple brick wall into something theatrical. The man, mid-step, just happens to land in the brightest part — his face lit, his body casting a long shadow like a sundial.
It's a reminder that street photography is 90% observation and 10% luck. You can't force these shots. You wait, watch, and occasionally, the city gives you a gift.
The Uninvited Gaze
But here's the thing: I don't know this man. He didn't pose for me. He wasn't part of any planned shoot. He's just someone going about his day, frozen forever in this frame. And that raises a deeper question I constantly wrestle with: Where is street photography's ethical line?
Is it enough that he's in a public space? Does the artistic value of the image override the subject's lack of consent? I don't have a tidy answer, but I try to navigate this with care. For me, the intent behind the lens matters. I aim to preserve dignity, to capture beauty or mystery, never mockery or shame. Street photography isn't about stealing moments. It's about noticing them. And there's a difference.
Why This Still Matters to Me
In this new chapter of life, retired but definitely not retired from curiosity, photography gives me a way to stay present. It forces me to look more closely, slow down, and notice how sunlight falls on brick, how strangers hold themselves, and how the city breathes.
This image is just one of hundreds I've taken on my walks. But it sticks with me because it speaks to something more profound: that every ordinary moment has a little poetry in it if you're paying attention.
