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beneath the surface of transit, silence breathes in geometry. a glass box anchors the void, holding stillness in its transparent grip while reflections ripple like echoes across polished stone. it’s not a station—it’s a cathedral of motion paused, where light draws the architecture’s secret lines and solitude becomes sublime.
A checkerboard floor—gritty, lived-in—hosts a quiet rebellion of socks in sandals. There’s something wonderfully offbeat in this casual gesture, something real. It’s a moment caught between irony and sincerity, stillness and rhythm.
Amid the symmetry of the tiles, the human touch breaks the pattern—soft, humorous, unfiltered. This is the poetry of detail, where stories begin from the ground up.
When contemplating this facade, I was immediately struck by this black structure with golden edges that seemed to float against the concrete, like a musical score etched into matter. I wanted to capture this duality between the mathematical rigor of the architecture and the almost poetic dimension created by the rhythmic repetition of elements.
The soft daylight allowed me to reveal the subtle variations of blue in the raw concrete, creating a cold yet living backdrop for these black blades with their warm edges. I chose a frontal, uncluttered framing to transform this portion of architecture into a visual abstraction close to painting.
In this quest for the essential, I sought to transcend the purely functional nature of the building to reveal its sculptural and meditative dimension. What fascinated me was the tension between the horizontality of the lines and the ascending movement of the whole - as if these black and gold strata were levitating, defying gravity and transforming concrete into a canvas for contemporary architectural calligraphy.
a mannequin guards the lit stage like a silent sentinel. just outside the frame of normalcy, a fleeting human shadow leans into the dark—caught between commerce and collapse, fashion and forgetting.
in the theatre of the street, he walks unseen — a lone figure lit by the digital glow of elsewhere. around him, the world collapses into shadow, silence, absence. the weight of disconnection is not loud; it hums quietly through the grid of our lives.
Nikon FE2, probably 35mm AIS f/2, old slide scanned...
n the promenade of portixol. a man, half in light, half in shadow, resting on a bench. above him a slatted roof, beneath him his own double in silhouette. the sky is bare, the sea restless. he could be anywhere – but he’s right here. caught between stillness and shine.
she walked like punctuation across the sentence of a shutter. her silhouette wrapped the sun like a warning. portolito above, silence below.
An accidental arrow, pointing nowhere — or maybe just into stillness.
I was drawn to the bold shape, the contrast of blue and green, and the tiny pink mark that disrupts the perfection just enough. A quiet corner of an industrial wall, turned into something almost abstract.
Shot with the Fujifilm X-T3 and 35mm f/2 lens.
one red umbrella in a sea of shadows. she doesn’t walk, she waits. in the middle of plaça major, where the light slices through stone silence, she becomes the punctuation of the day—an accent in red, a breath in color. the arches behind her sleep, the shutters forget to blink. but she, standing still, burns quietly.
sometimes a wall looks back. a glance frozen in lime and pigment pierces through the noise of the street.
she walks by, unaware of the weight of the painted gaze.
or perhaps she knows. and still walks on.
toward the screens, but his presence lingers more in reflection than in motion. the floor doesn’t just mirror him — it holds him in place, as if memory came before the step. geometry and glass create a pause in time, while the sun draws a silent frame around it all.
a woman steps along the fine line between light and shadow, caught in the geometry of palma’s old town. the wall speaks quietly in stone and font, its message half-covered by the angled cloak of the sun. “antigua palma” stands not just for place, but for time – split here by this transient presence, passing but not insignificant. light cuts across the façade like a memory dividing past and present. in this slice of shadow, everything feels temporary – even permanence.
caught in the last light at avenidas, palma — a fleeting silhouette sketched by the sun on a red canvas, lost in her screen, found in shadow.
on a sharp midday in palmaâs plaza mayor, shadows staged their own quiet protest. a man pauses, hand raised, as if shielding his thoughts. above him, the peace symbol cast by a hanging lantern appears not drawn, but summoned. the street becomes a canvas, light a witness, and the passing of time something almost audible. in that split second, the silhouette and its twin on the wall blur into a single presence â as if the city itself were listening.
A solitary red light suspended in a clean, blue sky—this image strips movement down to its most essential symbol: stop. The shot works because of its simplicity, geometry, and tension. The harsh shadow lines, slight corrosion, and sunlit textures give the signal a tactile, almost sculptural quality. But it’s the negative space that elevates the frame—the expanse of blue is both calming and charged with anticipation.
Something’s about to happen… just not yet.
tarifa, andalusia. she didn’t stop. the jacket said everything — bold white letters on worn cotton. “can’t afford to be plain.” she disappeared into the shop. the sign above her said boho. i didn’t ask. she didn’t look back. and the street just kept on breathing.
