The light was soft, early evening. A lounge in perfect order—chairs aligned, menus standing, ashtrays clean. Everything ready for guests who haven’t arrived. Or maybe they already left. On the wall, a screen glows dimly. A face caught in grainy black and white, paused mid-thought. An actor from some old film, eyes fixed just off-centre. And here’s the strange thing: it looks like he’s watching the room. Looking straight at the empty chairs. That was the moment I took the frame. Not because the interior was elegant, though it was. Not because the light was dramatic, though it helped. But because the whole space felt like a stage no one…