Outdoor Aperitif

I shot this on a cool evening in Brussels, with the last of the daylight just beginning to retreat behind slate rooftops. The city was shifting gears—post-work fatigue blending with the early stirrings of nocturnal energy. I had the Leica M9 slung across my shoulder, a camera that’s more than a tool—it forces you to see with intent, to commit before pressing the shutter. Paired with the Zeiss Biogon 35mm f/2.8, it draws sharpness out of corners and translates contrast with a crisp, unfussy tone that suited the moment perfectly.

The scene was already composed for me: clustered chairs, half-filled glasses, side conversations in mid-stream. No one posed. No one noticed. This is where the Leica shines—its unobtrusive form factor doesn’t declare itself. The Biogon handled the geometry well: verticals remained clean, no distortion pulling the edges apart, and the 35mm field of view allowed me to step close without intrusion.

Technically, the exposure was a push-pull dance. The M9’s CCD sensor has a particular way with light—less forgiving than modern CMOS chips, but more honest. Highlights bloom fast if not watched, so I exposed conservatively, preserving detail in the glass reflections and shirt folds. Shadows remained tight, textured, not drowned. I didn’t want to flatten it in post, either—the city’s character lives in its contrast, its resistance to being too polished.

Compositionally, the weight sits subtly left-of-centre, where a gesturing hand or a leaned shoulder might pull your eye. The background hums with context—bikes against a railing, the angular repetition of café chairs—but never shouts. I resisted the temptation to crop. The full 3:2 frame breathes just right.

This image isn’t dramatic. It’s observational. Quiet, like the drinkers in it. The kind of frame that invites you to overhear, rather than witness. And in that, I think it says more about Brussels than any postcard ever could.