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When the parking’s lost
When the parking is lost, there’s only one solution.
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Just a soccer match…
This is not an upcoming urban riot. Just a soccer match…
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Raus
I took this photograph on a quiet street where the stillness of the scene clashed violently with the venom of the message sprayed across the wall. The phrase, written in crude, hurried strokes, is not a remnant from some distant, darker chapter of history but a fresh reminder that intolerance continues to thrive. The frame is stripped of distraction: a textured wall, a single small window with broken panes, and the shadow of a streetlamp reaching across the surface. The composition leans heavily on the tension between emptiness and statement. Placing the graffiti off-centre allows the cracked window to act as a counterweight, both visually and metaphorically—two forms of damage,…
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A party that shall never come
A dress and a bag waiting to be sold. Will the party ever take place?
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The Icecream is ready to be served
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Fashionable’s shots
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Rest on the lake
enjoying some fruit.
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Waiting for the goal
Why can’t I enjoy my soccer team’s match instead of wasting my time here? Because my wife loves music…
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Segway Chase in Villa Borghese
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Shade of Berlin
… Jeff, Berlin.
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Knocking on lion’s door
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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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Still Together
Still together, like the very first day. I saw them before they saw me — leaning slightly towards each other, their posture neither rigid nor slouched, but comfortably suspended in the shared gravity of the table between them. The wine glasses, half-filled with rosé, spoke of time already spent; the unopened bottle on the side suggested more still to come. From a compositional standpoint, I worked with the geometry of the setting — the square table, the vertical lines of the wall, and the quiet interruption of the stone column — to anchor the frame. The couple sit on opposite sides, yet the line of sight between them is unbroken,…
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The missing guest
This image unfolded quietly, almost too politely — three men in jackets and ties sitting at a table clearly set for four. The elegance of the setup, from the pressed tablecloth to the carefully arranged centrepiece, clashes subtly with the anticipation suspended in their posture. Nobody makes eye contact. One reads the menu, the others look downward, pretending focus. The empty chair becomes the central subject without needing to move. Framing was tight on purpose. I let the olive oil bottle in the foreground stand, blurring into obscurity and giving some depth and texture to an otherwise sharply focused core. That slight intrusion also reinforces the perspective: I wasn’t part…
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Late-afternoon’s snack
…who knows what will be served for dinner?
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An Old-Style ATM
This frame came together in the blink of an eye — or perhaps more accurately, in the blur of one. No carefully plotted composition, no tripod, no second chance. Just a brief exchange at a café counter: a plate extended, a hand offering payment, the warmth of human transaction before contactless cards made it all vanish into invisible transfers. The motion blur here is both the flaw and the essence. Technically speaking, the shutter speed was far too slow for handheld shooting in this kind of lighting, resulting in softness across the entire image. If sharpness were the sole measure of photographic merit, this would be an immediate reject. But…
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Who is the mannequin?
… not sure.
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The Urban Chase
Not all of the urban chases, involve a couple of Alfa 159 trying to catch an Aston Martin
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So what?
There is a certain energy in candid street photography that cannot be replicated in a controlled setting, and So What?captures it in full stride. This frame offers a slice of urban life in the late afternoon, when the sun hangs low and the streets teem with a mix of idle chatter, cigarette breaks, and casual posturing. The photograph hinges on the central figure—a tall man in sunglasses, cigarette poised mid-gesture—whose slight tilt of the head and half-smirk seem to issue the titular challenge. To his left, another man, hand to face and gaze averted, projects an entirely different mood: contemplative, perhaps guarded. The third figure, seen only from behind, forms…
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A young Iron Maiden fan
He might never have seen them, but who cares? Metal is immortal…
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As much as you’re far from home…
there will always be somebody who are more.
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When the day is gone
… there are plenty of ways to still make a newspaper useful.
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Forgotten Bike In A Forgotten House
I found the bike in a room whose doors had not been opened in years. Paint flaked from the plaster. Light slipped through a broken pane and laid a clean rectangle across the floor. The bike stood where someone once left it mid-errand, an everyday object promoted by neglect into relic. I built the frame around planes and diagonals. The window sits high and left to keep the eye moving across the shaft of light to the handlebars, then down the front wheel to the scuffed tiles. Floorboards and wall seams act as guides, converging behind the saddle to hold the gaze. I kept a little headroom above the bars…
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The Long Way Up
I’ve always been drawn to stairways — not for their architectural elegance, but for what they suggest about human effort. This photograph, taken in a steep Italian hill town, is less about the stones and more about the person halfway up, leaning forward into the climb, each step a small battle against gravity and fatigue. From a compositional standpoint, I deliberately placed the vanishing point at the top of the stairs, where the light spills in from the open street beyond. The walls on either side act as vertical guides, forcing the viewer’s eye along the incline toward the lone figure. The choice of black and white wasn’t an afterthought;…
