An Old-Style ATM

This frame came together in the blink of an eye — or perhaps more accurately, in the blur of one. No carefully plotted composition, no tripod, no second chance. Just a brief exchange at a café counter: a plate extended, a hand offering payment, the warmth of human transaction before contactless cards made it all vanish into invisible transfers.

The motion blur here is both the flaw and the essence. Technically speaking, the shutter speed was far too slow for handheld shooting in this kind of lighting, resulting in softness across the entire image. If sharpness were the sole measure of photographic merit, this would be an immediate reject. But sharpness isn’t the only measure.

The blurred gestures suggest movement, urgency, a fleeting moment caught in the act of passing. The suited arm and the crisp shirt sleeve contrast with the more casual appearance of the man behind the counter. The word “CASH” embossed on the counter becomes an anchor in the composition — still, solid, and sharply legible against the surrounding fluidity.

Exposure is on the warmer side, possibly due to mixed lighting sources — tungsten from inside the café, daylight filtering from an unseen window. The highlights in the display case are slightly blown, but this adds to the sense of overexposure to brightness you get when stepping into a shop from the street.

In a different context, I might have retaken this shot with proper settings to freeze the moment. But part of me thinks the photograph works precisely because of its imperfection. It feels like a memory — one that’s already in motion, already slipping away.