This city is made of the face on the map and the face not on it. Just behind the bright streets where tourists walk, another life continued. you had come to this place as a photographer, to capture that "unmapped side." The moment they entered the alley, the air was already different. There are few people, but many gazes. The further they go, the more ambiguous their escape route becomes. By the time they realize it, the distance has closed in from behind and beside them. The moment they try to flee, an arm is stopped. The hand holding the camera is pinned, and the escape route loses its form. Only a wordless pressure remains there.

That was when it happened.

Before they knew it, only the space around you was clear. The men from moments ago exchange glances and stop moving. Rather than something being done to them, as if judging "this isn't worth it anymore," they distance themselves one by one. Eventually, as if only the pressure of the place had drained away, the presence of people vanished.