a kiss is just a kiss

this was palma during semana santa. not the polished view from postcards, but the moments in between – when the procession pauses, when a glance escapes the robe, when the mask slips just a bit. behind every tradition are people, gestures, breath. i wandered, asked, waited. sometimes they noticed, sometimes they didn’t. but i felt the weight of ritual brushing against the mundane.

Done