A solitary yellow tram glows like a held note in a city rendered largely in soot-soft grays, its warmth cutting through the hush of rain and the heavy canopy of trees. The sweeping curve of the tracks and the web of overhead lines choreograph the eye into a quiet circuit, turning transit into a meditation on direction, pause, and return. Reflections pooled on the pavement double the vehicle’s presence, suggesting memory as a second route running alongside the real one—briefly luminous, then dissolving into atmosphere.