220 Degrees

The lens is wide, the world is vast,
A 220-degree cast.
No stitching needed, no digital lie—
Just glass and light and a single eye.

While others pan and piece it tight,
We catch the horizon in one bright bite.
From left to right, the city bends,
Where concrete starts and where it ends.

The light comes in at an angle bold,
A story wide, not cropped or cold.
No narrow frame, no tunnel view—
The whole damn sky comes rushing through.

So let the purists clutch their crop,
Their telephoto, their zoom-and-stop.
We keep it wide, we keep it true—
220 degrees of you.