The wind seems to carry them forward, two bodies moving as one, the bicycle less a machine than a shared heartbeat. A young man rides along the seawall in Accra, a child clasped tightly to his back, their weight and balance folding into a single, forward-leaning silhouette. The city drifts to the edges of the frame; what stays at the center is the touch between them.

In Hold me Close, from the series Hero Father Friend, Carlos Idun-Tawiah distills a language of care into line, light and gesture. The monochrome palette removes distraction, drawing the eye to the crease of cotton, the curve of a hand on the handlebar, the gentle press of a cheek against a shoulder. Shadows gather around the bicycle frame while the sky opens wide above, turning this everyday ride into something almost mythic.

The photograph’s quiet power lies in the certainty of that embrace. The child’s arms loop around the rider’s chest in a grip that is both instinctive and trusting, dependence rendered as pure, unguarded affection. The older boy never glances back, yet his posture carries the promise of protection: he will steer, he will keep them upright, he will carry them both through the world.

Around them, life continues at its own pace. Figures leaning against the wall become faint echoes of another time, hinting at futures the boys cannot yet imagine. In this suspended instant, however, heroism is condensed into a simple act: offering one’s back as a place of safety and view. The image honors tenderness without spectacle, suggesting that love can be as unassuming as a borrowed bicycle and a child who refuses to let go.