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Second shot. Something beneath the surface. |
Lisbon. Late afternoon. The kind of light that doesn’t cast shadows, just softens them.
I took the second one just a few minutes after the first.
Same spot. Same light. Same angle.
But something felt… off.
The photo developed normally. Still nothing terribly wrong with it.
But when I placed it next to the first, I noticed the shift.
The colors were warmer. Orange bleeding into the shadows.
Like the light had changed — or like the picture had moved while developing.
Not a blur. Not damage. Just repositioned itself, slightly.
Like it had shifted in time, not space.
They’re nearly identical. I checked.
But the second one doesn’t sit still. It vibrates. Quietly.
Like it’s leaning toward something I’m not supposed to see.
I didn’t say anything out loud, but I remember thinking:
“Are you trying to show me something?”
And for a second, I swear the light in the photo flickered.
At the time, I blamed the lighting. My eyes.
But now, looking back, I think that was the moment it started watching me.