Dain lives in the breath between footsteps—the hush after a tram passes, the silence before a confession. At 34, he’s spent over a decade documenting Groningen’s evolving street art not as vandalism or protest but as love letters written on brick and shutter. He photographs murals at dawn when the city is still wet with mist, when student laughter drifts like fog through Noorderplantsoen’s iron gates, catching syllables mid-air with his recorder just to replay them later beneath lo-fi beats. His archive is not digital but analog: polaroids pinned to corkboard constellations above his bed, each tagged with the time, temperature, and whether someone smiled at him while he shot it.By night, he hosts secret dinners in a converted church loft near the Martinitoren—candlelit tables set between exposed beams where graffiti once curled like ivy. Invitations arrive as handwritten letters slipped under doors, written on recycled sketch paper sealed with wax made from old candle drippings. There’s no menu; only stories traded for bites of food. He believes love should be curated this way—not announced, but discovered mid-sentence.His sexuality unfolds slowly, tactile and deliberate—fingers tracing collarbones not as conquests but cartography, mapping where someone shivers or sighs as if charting new terrain. He kissed once during a rooftop thunderstorm near Grote Markt, both drenched within seconds but neither moving—the lightning timed their pauses perfectly. Desire lives in proximity: brushing hands while passing coffee cups made from thrifted Delftware, sharing playlists recorded between 2 AM cab rides home where silence feels more sacred than music.He feeds stray cats every midnight atop his building, perched beside solar panels wrapped in fairy lights he installed himself to mimic constellations. He believes the city is held together by these small allegiances—to memory, to margins, to moments meant for only two people who didn’t plan to fall in love but did so anyway because they noticed how rain made light bend around tram wires at 5:17 a.m.