An elderly man watering plants as a tram passes close by

A photorealistic candid street photograph shot from along the narrow passage where the Enoden tram line runs between the houses near Enoshima, from about eight meters down the track at chest height.
An elderly man in his seventies stands on the narrow strip of pavement outside his own front door, watering a row of potted plants with a small metal watering can. He is turned toward his plants, side-on to the track, body relaxed, both feet planted. The spout is tilted and a steady thin stream of water is falling into a pot of chrysanthemums. His hand is completely steady. He wears a worn cardigan, loose trousers, sandals with socks, and he is entirely unhurried.
Behind him, perhaps forty centimeters from his back, the green and cream Enoden tram is passing. The side of the train fills a large part of the frame, its windows showing the pale blurred shapes of seated passengers, its body slightly weathered with paint chips along the lower skirt and rust at the panel seams. The gap between the moving train and the house wall is so narrow it looks impossible.
He does not turn his head. He does not step back. He does not acknowledge the train in any way. He has lived here fifty years and the tram passes every twelve minutes.
Along the wall beside his door, a dense row of potted plants crowds the strip of pavement: chrysanthemums, a small camellia, succulents in chipped ceramic, a tomato plant staked with bamboo, several pots sitting on upturned crates to save space. Some leaves are wet from the watering. A plastic hose coils by the step. The house front behind is weathered timber and corrugated panel with a sliding door, a faded noren curtain, a meter box, an umbrella stand.
The passage is extremely tight, houses pressing in on both sides, the track running straight down the middle with its rails polished bright silver by use and the sleepers and ballast visible between them. Overhead, the catenary wires and a few utility lines cut across the strip of pale sky. Further down the passage the houses continue and the track curves out of sight.
Soft diffused daylight, high overcast, no hard shadows, the specific gentle coastal light of the Shonan area. The wet leaves and the polished rail tops are the brightest things in the frame.
Shot at 35mm f/4, ISO 400, 1/250s on a mirrorless camera. The man, the watering can, the falling water and the potted plants are sharp. The train carries slight natural motion blur along its length from its own speed, enough to read as moving while the man stands perfectly still. That difference between his stillness and its motion is the entire photograph.
The palette is muted and domestic: green and cream train livery, weathered grey timber, terracotta and chipped ceramic pots, dark green foliage, the man's brown cardigan. No legible text anywhere, no destination boards, no station signage, no shop names.
The composition places the man and his plants at the left third in sharp stillness, the moving train filling the right two thirds with its length running out of frame, and the rails leading the eye down the passage. The eye finds the watering can first, then registers how close the train is, then realizes he has not moved a millimeter. The mood is quiet and deadpan: a man watering his chrysanthemums while a commuter train passes close enough to touch.