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A Fisherman
In a quiet marina, under the forgiving light of the late afternoon, a fisherman tends to his nets. There are no waves crashing, no shouting, no sails unfurling—just the steady, patient work of untangling, mending, preparing. This is not a romanticised image of the sea. There is no dramatic storm, no heroic pose. Just hands worn by salt, wind, and time, labouring over nylon threads that, like veins, carry sustenance from ocean to table. These nets are not merely tools—they are lifelines, a continuation of tradition, a quiet resistance to obsolescence. The photograph captures a kind of devotion: to craft, to survival, to family. Each knot tells of a…
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Pouring Water Since About 300 Years
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Freeze!
A word. A command. A moment suspended. The photograph captures a wedding not through its sentiment, but through its construction. The couple stands solemn, framed by stained glass and garlands, their faces lit by artificial flashes more than divine glow. “Freeze,” the photographer says. But the word travels further—it crystallises not just the posture, but the entire choreography around them. Like statues in a contemporary ritual, the photographers orbit in silence. Each holds their position, camera drawn like a weapon against time. The irony: in freezing the subjects, they too must freeze. Each frame they take is built on the shared stillness of others. The sacredness of the altar competes…
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Switch
Today is this photo blog’s second birthday.
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Red
The image was taken in the evening, when artificial lights mix with the faint remnants of daylight, producing a palette that can easily become muddy if exposure and colour balance are not carefully controlled. The choice to keep the scene in its natural ambient light preserves its authenticity, though it comes at the cost of some detail in shadowed areas. The central figure in the red jacket acts as a visual anchor, standing out decisively against the more subdued hues of the crowd. From a compositional standpoint, the frame is well balanced: the converging lines of the street lead the eye into the depth of the scene, pulling attention from…
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Busy In A Call
Shot handheld at night, available light only. I leaned into the blur and grain—ISO pushed to 3200, wide open at f/2. The result isn’t clean. It’s fractured, noisy, restless. Which fits. The moment wasn’t about stillness. Foreground holds two figures, tight in the frame. One in profile, on the phone, thumb pressed to lips, nails yellow against a black handset. The other’s back to camera, only form and volume—hair and jacket. Behind them, the café scene unfolds: overlapping bodies, light bouncing off glass, talk and gestures suspended mid-motion. Focus was shallow and uncertain by design. The camera caught the caller’s cheek, soft but distinguishable. The rest bleeds into motion. Technical…
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Yellow
The photograph hinges on the interplay between colour, geometry, and omission. By keeping the frame cropped tightly, I remove any narrative context — no faces, no full figures, just the assertive yellow of work trousers, the partial arc of a bicycle wheel, and the tiled pavement as stage. The absence of a complete subject forces the eye to wander across shapes and lines rather than fixating on identity. The composition is built diagonally, with the wheel anchoring the right edge and the worker’s feet drawing the gaze upward and left. The black tile bands slice the frame, adding structure and contrast to the more neutral beige of the pavement. It’s…
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Is This My Breakfast? (Kirobo, the new Pinocchio)
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The Man Behind The Croissant
It’s not just a title. It’s a layered truth. He’s literally behind the croissants — arms folded, resting gently on the chilled glass counter, smiling with the quiet confidence of someone who knows exactly what he’s made. But he’s also the one behind them in the deeper sense: the early riser, the flour-dusted craftsman, the keeper of recipes that live more in muscle memory than in ink. The Man Behind the Croissant is a portrait of work and warmth. Of a man whose day starts long before anyone steps into the shop. Who rolls, folds, rests, fills, bakes — not as performance, but as rhythm. There’s no spectacle here. Just trays of pastry…
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Message Check Before Breakfast
This shot came together in the quiet seconds between espresso orders and the whir of the barista’s machine. I didn’t ask him to pose — I never do in moments like these. His posture, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the screen, scarf still clutched tight from the cold outside, told the full story. The light was unforgiving in its neutrality — ceiling fixtures and flat fluorescents don’t do any favours, but sometimes they just let the environment breathe. I pushed the ISO higher than I’d normally like, sacrificing a bit of cleanliness for immediacy. Still, the rendering holds: detail in the wool coat, a soft drop-off in the background, and…
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The Leica M9 CCDgate Outrageous Case
This is not “new” news, but is getting momentum: Leica M9′ sensors (including those fitted into the more than expensive “special” models) are plagued. The repair cost is 1.800,00 Euros plus VAT and shipping, not to mention the time needed to get the camera back (weeks? months?) Leica claims to offer paid support to the older, out-of-warranty customers but just doing a few math shows that it doesn’t worth it: if you own a between-three-and-five-years old M9 you’re supposed to pay 600,00 Euros (plus VAT etc.) while more-than-five-years old M9 owner will pay 1.200 Euros (plus VAT etc.) to get an old and outdated camera new sensor, affected by the…
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Branches On The Wall
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Winter Leaves
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A Rural View
The photograph frames the landscape through layers of architecture. Brick columns, wooden beams, and the shadowed floor lead the eye directly to the opening in the centre, where chairs and a table sit quietly against rolling hills. The space becomes a proscenium, turning countryside into spectacle, an everyday view into a staged scene. Composition is strict, almost symmetrical. The vertical columns create a grid that anchors the image, while the open middle draws attention forward. The empty chairs, evenly placed, act as stand-ins for absent viewers, inviting the gaze outward. Depth is built in three stages: the shaded foreground, the architectural frame, and the brightly lit landscape beyond. Technically, exposure…
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The Racers
This frame plays on contrast — not in light, but in intent. A man on a bicycle, casual and calm, drifts past a car caught in traffic. His posture suggests ease, purpose even, while the driver beside him grips a phone, half-engaged elsewhere. The child seat behind the cyclist, though empty, tells a story of movement beyond the individual. Domesticity, transport, and pace: all converge in one mundane but resonant street encounter. I shot this with a 35mm at f/8 to hold sharpness across the scene. The lens rewarded me with clarity on the cyclist’s face and detail in the background signage. Timing was key. I waited until the rider…
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Portrait with Skewers
I took this indoors, handheld, under mixed lighting, using a short focal length and no modifiers. It’s not a technical showcase. It’s a study in immediacy—an encounter frozen before refinement. The figure stands close, wide lens pulling in distortion around the edges. Face and skewers both sit in the shallow foreground, lit unevenly by ceiling fluorescents and ambient bounce from a warm source camera-left. The colour cast is inconsistent. I left it. Adjusting white balance to neutrality would flatten the artificiality that holds the image together. The context is a real room, not a set. Composition favours gesture. The skewers point forward, catching highlights and pulling focus. His hoodie and…
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Leaving Home
Distortion in this case matched the reality: walking beneath modern high-rises can feel surreal, oppressive even. The warped geometry bends the building into a looming wave that seems to crash down on the lone figure below—an ordinary person dragging a trolley bag, perhaps on the way back from errands or returning from a short trip. The photograph captures a dichotomy I often return to: the indifference of urban architecture versus the vulnerability of human movement. I didn’t wait for this person. I framed the architecture first, then let the rhythm of the street fill the gap. When he entered the frame, posture slightly hunched, shadow tracing behind, I released the…
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A Modern Nazca?
This image is one of those moments when photography abandons literalism and moves into interpretation. What you’re looking at is, in fact, a stretch of pavement and asphalt intersected by strong shadows—but the shallow depth of field and the grain structure render it unmoored from immediate recognition. The blurred lines could be mistaken for ancient geoglyphs seen from above, hence the tongue-in-cheek title. The parallel bands, intersecting curves, and sudden diagonals call to mind aerial archaeology, even though the camera was barely a metre from the ground. The ambiguity invites a double take, and in that pause, the viewer starts to reconstruct meaning. Technically, this is a photograph of deliberate…
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Alien Veins
It could be a close-up from a science fiction set—a fragment of skin stretched over something alive, the faint ridges and channels mapping a circulatory system not of this Earth. The blue-grey surface is both organic and mineral, a texture that resists quick identification. The lines that run across it, some deeper, some fading into the background, suggest veins—arteries carrying whatever fluid an alien physiology might depend on. They seem to rise and sink, as if the surface itself were breathing. The faint crosshatch pattern interrupts the flow, adding to the unease: is this grown or manufactured? In reality, the subject might be utterly mundane. But in photography, truth is…
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Suspicious
Every street photographer knows that moment — the fraction of a second when a stranger’s gaze brushes against yours and something shifts in the air. Suspicion. Wariness. An almost imperceptible tightening of the body. That’s the curse: the invisible threshold you cross when candid turns into confrontation, even if only in the subject’s mind. In this frame, the man in the magenta sweater and black coat is mid-stride, his expression caught somewhere between concentration and mild irritation. He’s moving with purpose, but his eyes — just soft enough in the focus to keep anonymity intact — seem aware of my presence. The shallow depth of field lets the textured walls…
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Guest Are Welcome!
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The Drying Machine
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A Banner
I photographed this weathered sign for its layered character. The hand-painted letters, once bold, now bear the marks of time—faded paint, chipped wood, and a patina that speaks of decades of exposure. Its message is straightforward, advertising a taverna and pointing to an address, but as an object it is also a record of vernacular design, where function and personality coexist. The composition was kept simple: a tight frame, centred to let the text dominate without distraction. By eliminating the surrounding wall almost entirely, the sign becomes the sole subject, demanding attention to its texture and imperfections. The small decorative leaves and the script at the bottom break the rigidity…
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Pensive
