Photography- Photographer Dmitry Sparvko
The hour when everything is still possible
6 AM. Stalls still folded.
Tarps wet with dew.
A stray dog crosses diagonally, unhurried.
Somewhere a metal gate rattles—
first vendor arriving with bread.
This hour belongs to no one.
The square hasn’t decided yet
what it wants to be today.
Possibility hangs in the air
like the last stars refusing to leave. Come back in three hours.
You won’t recognize it.
But right now,
it’s yours.