the midnight line cook

late night in barcelona.

a narrow passage, a glimpse through a steamy kitchen window.

he looked up from the prep station,

hands still holding the roll of cling film,

half in motion – not startled, just paused.

we didn't speak.

but the look said: you can take the picture.

 

and so i did.

this one is for everyone who works while the rest of the city sleeps.

Done