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A Sailors’ Warehouse
I took this photograph inside a boathouse, looking down into a storage system built from large industrial pipes. What struck me immediately was the rhythm of repetition: the orange-red circles forming a grid, each cradling a piece of fabric, rope, or gear. Practicality drove the design, yet visually it became something else—an ordered chaos, a taxonomy of a sailor’s life. The top-down perspective was deliberate. Shooting directly overhead flattened the objects into patterns, stripping away depth in favour of geometry. It is a photograph about compartments and how objects settle into them. The symmetry of the circles is slightly broken by the irregular bulk of the bags and fabrics, which…
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Autumn Leaves
There’s nothing particularly striking about this photo at first glance. Just a flower box tucked against a weathered wall. A few green leaves still stubbornly clinging on, others browned and curled, caught mid-fall. It’s the kind of street element you pass without noticing, or maybe glimpse and forget. And yet, it’s a portrait — not of a person, but of a moment in life. That in-between moment.When you’re no longer young, but not yet old.Not blooming, not dying. Just… suspended. There’s resilience in the remaining green, still pushing out colour despite the changing cycle. But there’s no hiding the signs of decline. Age creeps in at the edges first —…
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The Shoesfixer
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The Lost Hotel
I photographed this derelict façade in an Italian town on a walk that started with no intention and ended with this frame. “Albergo Aterno,” barely legible beneath a coat of turquoise decay, is what’s left of a forgotten hotel. I didn’t need to know its history to feel the abandonment radiating from every peeled layer of plaster. The frame is pulled tight—the architecture becomes a subject in itself, the wires and conduit lines accidentally composing a crude symmetry that holds the chaos together. This isn’t a pretty picture, and that’s the point. The scene punishes clean aesthetics. Harsh light from the afternoon sun exacerbates the texture—flaking walls, rusted metal, and…
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Fishing Shelter Under The Bridge
Photographs like this one always pull me in—not for their glamour, but for their quiet, unvarnished truth. This image, titled Fishing Shelter Under a Bridge, captures a space that seems to exist on the fringes: part makeshift workspace, part refuge, part survival mechanism. The fishing net suspended in the frame is not the tool of a hobbyist, but a means to secure food, a reminder of the precariousness of life for some. From a compositional perspective, the photograph is anchored by a strong sense of depth. The viewer’s eye is naturally drawn from the shaded, cluttered foreground toward the brighter, open water and the moored boats in the distance. The…
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London Swash
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Caged?
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The 365th Shot: Between Sacred and Profane
“Between the Sacred and Profane” is the 365th picture that I’ve posted on this blog and it is the end of a one-year project where I made a point of publishing one picture per day. When, exactly 356 days ago, I decided to start I couldn’t imagine what would have been happened. I became deeply involved into exploring different genres and styles, covering big live events for a music magazine, cinema and arts awards ceremonies, street-photography, portraits, photojournalism and sport events. I went in for a couple of contests and started giving (for free, as I promised) seminars about the rights of the (street)photographers. Of course I don’t do photography…
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Remainders in Prati
No need to spend huge money,to have a good read. There’s a certain romance in a place where books are stacked so high they seem to form their own architecture. This remainder bookstore in Rome’s Quartiere Prati is one such space — an organised chaos where towers of paperbacks and hardcovers lean against each other like old friends, and the scent of yellowed pages lingers in the air. When I framed this photograph, I wanted to invite the viewer inside, to feel that they might squeeze through those narrow aisles and get lost in the labyrinth. The open doorway, flanked by bookstands spilling onto the pavement, works as a visual…
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Under the Bridge
Here I am again with a video…
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A Mysterious Bag
Big enough to contains a whole life…
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A Fisherman in Rome
There is a quiet irony in standing on the banks of the Tiber, camera in hand, and seeing this scene unfold — a solitary fisherman, rod extended, gazing into the slow, opaque water. Just a few metres above, Rome hums and roars: scooters weave through traffic, tourists cluster at monuments, and shopkeepers call out in markets. Down here, however, time seems to flow at the river’s pace — unhurried, stubbornly indifferent to the world above. From a compositional standpoint, the photograph makes good use of negative space. The wide expanse of muted, silty water forms a calm, almost monotone backdrop that lets the figure of the fisherman stand out without…
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Next in line, please!
A disciplined and contemplative street photography shot captured with documentary precision. A quiet urban scene unfolds on a cobblestone street, framed by soft, overcast light. In the foreground, a stone bollard supports a small display of trinkets and souvenirs, sharply focused against the subdued blur of pedestrians and parked scooters. The muted palette and shallow depth of field evoke a cinematic stillness, contrasting motion and stasis, commerce and transience—an observation of everyday life
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The Last Icecream?
I was drawn to the quiet anticipation layered between three figures, each framed by glass, glare, and gesture. The woman in the foreground, partially silhouetted in a hoodie, acts as the emotional anchor — patient, uncertain, her posture leaning subtly forward. She could be next, or just waiting. The man to her right, elderly, suited, stoic, exists in quiet counterpoint. And behind the counter, blurred yet bright, the server becomes an abstract suggestion of service or denial. It’s the moment before transaction — a gesture paused in the theatre of everyday life. Technically, the image is soft, and I’m fine with that. Focus falls more on atmosphere than detail. Depth…
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Portrait of a young scholar
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Secret Beyond the Door
Who knows what they’re talking about?
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Too Young to Spend Time Watching the Ducks in the Pond
… wait for the retirement, at least!
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Tired or Fascinated?
Not so easy to tell… The question writes itself when you look at the scene. In the centre of the frame, a man stands before a long, textured painting. His arms are crossed, his head tilted slightly forward—posture locked in contemplation. The work before him, with its earthy tones and abstracted form, seems to have pulled him entirely into its orbit. He doesn’t glance away. In the foreground, two seated figures tell a different story. On the left, a woman in a red hoodie sits with a jacket draped across her lap, holding a booklet. Her gaze drifts outward, past the viewer, her expression suggesting the mental pause that comes after…
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The Way Out
There is something about an open window that always draws me in—not for what lies beyond, but for the threshold it represents. This frame was taken from inside a dimly lit room, the glass swung outward, offering a partial view of a Parisian-style zinc roof, punctuated by a small chimney vent. The decision to work in black and white came naturally; the textures and tonal contrasts were far more compelling than any colour the scene might have offered. The geometry of the roof panels and the window frame gave me strong lines to play with, and the skewed perspective from shooting slightly off-centre added a subtle tension to the composition.…
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Empty Chairs in the Tuileries
Paris in the rain changes its pace. The air thickens, the sounds dampen, and spaces usually alive with chatter take on a hushed, suspended quality. Here, in the Jardin des Tuileries, the iconic green metal chairs gather loosely at the edge of the fountain. They are arranged without intention—angled differently, backs turned, no symmetry to suggest a shared moment. It’s as if the conversation ended abruptly and the participants slipped away, leaving only their seats to remember the posture of their presence. The wet ground darkens the green paint, the armrests glisten with a thin film of water, and the fountain continues its arc in the background, indifferent. The frame…
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Same Space, Different Worlds
Lost in their own business.
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The Changer — Glass Walls, Paper Smiles, and Currency Drained
Shot through the pane of a Paris bureau de change, this image came together almost by accident, although the structure was too rigid to call it candid. I was struck by the transactional melancholy of it all. The young man hunched behind the counter, bathed in the cold glow of LED-lit optimism, was framed perfectly by posters promising “a fabulous customer experience.” The visual irony was impossible to ignore — printed smiles all around, while the only real expression behind the glass was fatigue. Technically, this image is about reflection and layering. The pane acts as both barrier and canvas, catching the street behind me and folding it into the…
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A Sad Afternoon
… waiting for someone to call.
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Chasing the Runner
When I framed this shot, I wasn’t only interested in the runner. His focused stride, his athletic attire, the purposeful set of his shoulders — these elements alone could have made for a conventional sports photograph. But what drew my attention was the peripheral narrative: to his left, almost in the shadows of his determined pace, a boy on a skateboard followed along, as if sharing the same lane of motion, but on an entirely different journey. The scene unfolded on a palm-lined promenade, cars and cyclists adding a sense of layered urban activity. The runner is sharp and dominant in the frame, his bright white outfit popping against the…
