While I usually gravitate to color, there are photographic moments that come alive in a more mysterious way in black and white. I can feel it – even though I don’t know exactly what I’m seeing. In fact, every part of the image raises more questions than it answers.

The vertical streaks cascading from top to bottom of the scene could be elongated silhouettes. Are we looking through layers of fogged glass? Or is it truly foggy out there, wherever there is?

Is there a faint horizon line across the center? Maybe. Or is there a body of water in the distance?

The sky itself is soft and hazy with gradients of gray evoking drifting clouds or mist.

And what is this bright orb – a double orb, even – that is like a setting sun, a reflection or a low moon? Even its glow has blurred edges.

What I imagine is a movie clip from a London street scene from long ago, where the wider elongated forms are buildings, where the one skinny form is a gaslight that is not illuminated. And if there were a person in the scene, he would be leaning against that gaslight smoking a cigarette.