Unplanned Moments: Cambridge in Black and White

Nov 8

Two Days of Noticing in Cambridge

I spent a couple of days in Cambridge last week with no real plan — just my camera, some time, and the intention to look. I wasn’t chasing a theme or working on a project; I simply wanted to wander and photograph whatever caught my attention. Sometimes those are the most rewarding walks — when you’re not looking for anything in particular, you start to notice everything.

Cambridge is a city of layers: students and cyclists, centuries-old walls, the quiet hum of cafés, the changing light on old stone. But it’s also full of small, contemporary stories — a moment on a bus, a face reflected in glass, two people passing each other on the street.

The first photograph came from the top deck of a bus. A young girl gazing out of the window, lost in thought and her own reflection, while the world slipped past outside — sunlight, shopfronts, and the faint blur of motion. There was something quietly cinematic about it, that in-between space of travelling somewhere but being still at the same time.

This second image was all about geometry and rhythm.

Two figures walking in opposite directions beneath an ornate bay window — a study in balance and timing.

It’s the kind of scene that lasts for a fraction of a second, and then it’s gone. But in that instant, there’s a conversation between architecture and people, between the permanence of the building and the fleetingness of movement.

The third photo came later, peering through the window of a small Sicilian café.

A man was working the dough, completely absorbed, the light catching his hands and hat.

The reflections in the glass added another layer — the outside world merging with the inside — a quiet reminder that every scene we witness has more than one story playing out.

How about the images above? The same image - one in colour, one in black and white. I like the blue and gold tones of the colour version but, then again, I like the strong black and white contrast in the monochrome image. The decisive moment is all in the spoon entering her mouth. Let me know if you have a preference in the comments below.

Looking back, I realise these pictures aren’t really about Cambridge as a place. They’re about presence — the act of paying attention, the art of noticing. Two days of simply being open to what might unfold in front of me, of noticing people and patterns, gestures and light.