The eye moves faster than it can hold. Details escape before they settle. What remains is not the city as it is, but as it passes. Briefly, imprecisely.
Light becomes form. Signs lose their meaning and keep their glow. Colours float without surfaces to hold them.
People cross the frame without being seen. Faces remain absent. Only movement is recorded. The blur is not a failure of attention. It is attention itself, turned soft.
The city gives what the eye cannot keep. A glow, a passage, a colour without edge. Enough to know it was there.
