When the sun is setting, the city has something ghostly in the emptiness of its streets.
It was her favourite spot in the house, that little corner with all her memories framed, the white sofa, light entering through the curtains, and that big cozy blanket, always ready to accompany her with a steaming cup of tea.
LC-A + Ilford HP5 Plus
Good coffee, cozy feeling, black and white photography, rainy days, travelling. All in one photograph.
LC-A + Rollei RPX 400
In black and white.
LC-A + Rollei RPX 400 (+bad scanning with my phone)
If you do, you should believe in demons too. Everything has its antithesis.
Zenit 11 + Agfaphoto APX 100
Waiting for the music to come to life.
Jimmy Glass Jazz Bar, Valencia.
Zenit 11 + Agfaphoto APX 100
I can’t sleep. It’s one of those moments in my life that whenever I go to bed I just toss and turn hopelessly. I stare at the white ceiling, remembering the star stickers I used to have many years ago, how I look at their luminescence waiting for the sleep to come. Whenever I felt distressed or worried about something, I just stare at the stars, until I finally fell asleep.
Lubitel 166B + Ilford Delta 400
Once I visited a town, a northern town, where old brick houses could tell many horror stories of desperation.
One of them caught my eye. By the window I saw a figure through the white curtains. She was staring out, completely frozen, her gaze fixed on the children playing with a football in the street. I stopped looking for a fragment of a second as the football almost hit me, and when I stared back, the window was empty, just the white curtains retaining the smallest of movement as the figure left.
My job kept me occupied most of the time, but I tried to visit that window a few times a week, then everyday, and as I grew obsessed with the figure I couldn’t help to scape work to visit The Window. I was supposed to stay in that northern city for a couple of weeks, but I kept postponing my return, I just wanted to see the figure, the mysterious woman I saw everyday, always staring out The Window, inexpressive, through the curtains, hoping she would look at me at last.
Finally she looked back. She looked back!!! Her dark eyes focused on me as a smile run through her face, I felt a shiver as she smiled more and more, her pale hand touching the glass of The Window, her gaze upon me kept me frozen at the other side of the street. I even remember hearing an eerie piano music coming out of that brick house before it turned into a whistle, a high pitch that finally made me collapsed.
The next thing I remember is the bright light of what seemed a hospital, and me asking as from the most remote of places where was the woman I saw. “No one has lived there in the last century” I heard. But I knew I saw her, I saw her by The Window.
More often that we’d like to admit, we seek beauty in the extraordinary, in one-in-a-life-time events, the uncommon, but we forget that beauty can be found in the most ordinary objects.
Being too close to something may cause blurry sight, the object, the problem, the circumstance seems out of focus, unreachable, without a solution.
Maybe it’s the moment to put some distance and try to focus our sight again.