C. in front of the Budapest Parliment building, acting like she owns the place.
trees, tower, wedding, some other trees, flag, Katowice voivodeship, bumar, a triptic, an old lady going,
these are my November days, in 35 mm.
In one of his late interviews Krzysztof Miller said that such thing as wrong photography doesn’t exist. That is what I decided to believe
(…) from the masters of the street photography” by Eric Kim, an easy, inspiring read I’m entertaining myself at the times when I’m grounded at work.
if you happen to be grounded too, click here for a free pdf
the first thing I recall from Madeira is color. Bursting, wild, overwhelming palette of shades, embraced by the sharp, Atlantic light, hitting my eyes on every occasion.
maybe that’s why I like the photographs of Madeira in black and white the most. jungle tamed. organised chaos. big, vast, the most authentic mix of colors, black and white x-rays the island and leaves only what’s essential.
I miss laying my eyes on the far away, vast landscape. Madeira is a big pillow.
we sat on the shore and watched the ocean.
Paul said “look” and the big wave came and than another and another.
as the ocean retreated the hundreds of stones rolled down. what a lovely sound.
I don’t know how many hours passed, but I don’t think the time was going minute by minute. It went a little bit here and a little bit there. tick tock, tick tock, like that.