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Segway Chase in Villa Borghese
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Roman Break
The light was harsh that day in Piazza di Spagna, shadows cutting deep, reflections flaring off windshields and stone. I was walking without intent, Leica in hand, when I noticed these two men — coachmen, likely — parked in the shade of their own carriage, deep in conversation. Their posture was telling: relaxed, inward-facing, close without being performative. Whatever was being said wasn’t for anyone else. It was a moment of pause between tourists, an honest interruption in a day spent performing a role. The scene called for monochrome. Colour would have distracted from the shapes and lines — the interlocked limbs, the glint off the bridle, the folds in…
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As much as you’re far from home…
there will always be somebody who are more.
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Don’t Forget!
It’s the moment between words that makes this picture. You can almost hear the shop owner’s voice, half command, half reminder, as the young man in the doorway glances back. The raised hand, the turned head, the slight lean forward — everything about his body language says, “You’ve got this, but don’t mess it up.” The frame itself is tight, almost conspiratorial. We’re standing just behind another figure — smart jacket, cigarette in hand — as if we’ve stumbled into a private exchange. That foreground figure acts as an anchor and a barrier at the same time: we’re part of the scene, yet removed from it, observing through a filter…
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Chitchat under the rain
every moment is the right one, to enjoy a friendly conversation.
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The sentinel…
… hawkeye!
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Bored
… why go to dinner together, just to enjoy a boring night?
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Business people in Rome
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No time for lunch at Piazza Fiume …
It was the shadow that pulled me in first—mine, cast sharply onto the boot of the car, creeping into the scene like an unwanted narrator. Midday sun can be harsh, unforgiving, but here it helped slice the moment cleanly into layers: man, car, street, façade. Rome, in its winter light, does this beautifully—sculpts with sun rather than bathing in it. The man was absorbed, cigarette in one hand, eyes squinting into the curbside distance. His posture wasn’t idle. It was tight, waiting. The shoulder bag pulled across his frame like a restraint. The frame itself is compressed—everything close, tight to the lens, from the Mercedes emblem to the man’s jacket…
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Lunchtime
It’s cold, but for a while it is better stay outside. The light was sharp and low, the kind that cuts through the chill and gives everything a brief sense of warmth. The group gathered around the table, half in shadow, half in sunlight is a familiar Roman scene: conversation, coffee, and the kind of pause that feels both ordinary and essential.
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It’s always the right time
… to light a cigar.
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Tough Enough
Winter light in Rome has a particular sharpness to it—crisp, but never cruel. I took this frame on one of those days when the air was cool enough to see your breath, yet the sun still carried the weight of the Mediterranean. The man in the foreground walked past with the easy stride of someone immune to the season. Sleeveless, tanned, a newspaper in hand—he looked more like August than January. The scene unfolded quickly. The scooter-lined curb, the idling bus, and the kiosk stacked high with papers gave the photograph its Roman DNA. The cluttered street corner made for a textured backdrop, but compositionally I placed him just off-centre,…
