One Coffee

The man was seated comfortably in the outdoor café, not in a hurry, holding a small cup of espresso with the ease of someone for whom this ritual is long-established. His posture—leg crossed, coat unbuttoned just enough, scarf tucked in with care—suggested familiarity rather than performance.

What interested me most was the way he occupied the space. He wasn’t watching the street or waiting for company; he was simply present. The café terrace around him was active—people talking, a stroller being adjusted, the waitress passing through in mid-step—but his stillness formed the quiet centre of the frame. It’s not stillness as in isolation, but stillness within movement.

Technically, the light posed a challenge. The sun came from a high angle and bounced off the pale paving stones, creating a diffuse upward glow. This made some areas—faces, cups, napkins—almost too bright, and the shadows risked losing definition. I exposed to keep detail in his face and coat, accepting that the background would overexpose slightly. The trade-off works: the environment becomes atmospheric instead of distracting.

The composition is relatively open. The table anchors the foreground and leads the eye back toward him. The placement of the cup, the glass of water, the napkin dispenser—these are everyday elements, but together they form a kind of small domestic stage. The street and buildings behind dissolve into soft focus, just clear enough to describe a city without insisting which one.