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Small Talk
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Luck is an Attitude
That’s an interesting catch. The Latin word for “luck” is “fortuna” that doesn’t mean “luck”, but “fate”. So I’d rather like to be, as an old aphorism from Appius Claudius Caecus says (“Fabrum esse quemque fortunae suae) the “builder of my own fate”.
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Next Time, Maybe…
This is not the right moment to lunch outside. Maybe next time…
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Ceci n’est pas un cadre
A few, different meanings. The most evident (?):it is a mirror, actually. Thus is not a peinture. The less evident: the title is a sleight of word on the famous Magritte’s masterwork “Ceci n’est pas une pipe“. The lesser evident: I shot the picture in Bruxelles, where is located the Magritte Museum.
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Behind the Beer
Behind the beer’s sockets, a barman discretely fulfills the order placed by his clients.
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An Altar for the Propaganda Machine
A powerful weapon, that equally served the good and the evil.
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The Last Icecream?
Hopefully there is still something left…
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Same Space, Different Worlds
Lost in their own business.
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The Chess Players
Well, this is not Alechin vs Capablanca but… who cares?
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An Intense Conversation
Some photographs hold silence. This is one of them. Shot in a small restaurant in Bruxelles — the kind you’d only find by chance, and never the same way twice — this frame preserves what no longer can be: a place, a conversation, a quiet evening at a table now vanished. Two women sit facing one another, generations apart, mirrored by the soft geometry of light and posture. One speaks — or perhaps listens. The other waits — or perhaps remembers. Their hands do most of the talking, resting, folding, rising to punctuate a point. There’s water on the table, a half-empty bottle, a flickering red votive. Nothing staged. Everything…
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Lost in mumbling
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While Waiting for the Food
Somewhere coastal, sometime after sundown. The table is set, the drinks half gone, the plates not yet full. It’s the in-between moment—the pause before the meal arrives, when conversation either deepens or disappears. He’s on his phone, thumb scrolling with purpose, eyes locked to the glow. Around him, the restaurant hums: plastic chairs, thatched roof, barefoot kids running between tables, the usual clatter of dishes and casual voices. A holiday place, probably. Warm air, sea salt, and time meant to be slower. What struck me was not the act—because it’s common—but the woman across from him. Half-hidden, partly blurred, yet watching. Not annoyed, not angry. Just watching. The kind of…
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Another hard night at the door is going to start.
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A Puff of Smoke
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Saturday Night’s Ice Cream
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Aficionados
Half past seven’o clock in the morning. Best customers already are in pole!
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The Actor’s Nightmare
The light was soft, early evening. A lounge in perfect order—chairs aligned, menus standing, ashtrays clean. Everything ready for guests who haven’t arrived. Or maybe they already left. On the wall, a screen glows dimly. A face caught in grainy black and white, paused mid-thought. An actor from some old film, eyes fixed just off-centre. And here’s the strange thing: it looks like he’s watching the room. Looking straight at the empty chairs. That was the moment I took the frame. Not because the interior was elegant, though it was. Not because the light was dramatic, though it helped. But because the whole space felt like a stage no one…
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An Evening Chat
The heat is unbearable in the evening of summer, but it doesn’t stop people from enjoying the outdoor nightlife.
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Self-Defense
Three against one…
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Portrait of a Waiter
Another day is going to start, and the ashtrays are ready to filled by the deadly dust…
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Early Morning’s Cleanup
The time goes by, and the song remains the same. Work until late night, clean up early in the morning.
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The Smoker’s Golden Rule
A Coffee Always Calls a Cigarette…
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Diner After the Show
Thank god there’s still a way to get some food, even at late night…
