The night edit

After dark a city deletes most of itself. The grey disappears, the clutter falls into shadow and only the lit signs remain: a curated feed of promises in red and cyan.

We walked from midnight until the bakeries opened, photographing only what the neon didn’t want us to see. Loading docks. Flickering tubes. A pharmacy sign spelling one letter short.

Neon is typography that refuses to go to sleep.

Reflections

Rain doubles everything. Every sign gets a trembling twin on the asphalt, slightly delayed, slightly wrong — the city’s own glitch effect, rendered for free.

By four a.m. the reflections were more convincing than the buildings. We decided that was the story.