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, letting his momentum carry the eye through the frame. The two young trees form a subtle vertical anchor, separating the man’s confident posture from the static, parked scooters.

Technically, the exposure leaned into the shadows. The deep blacks in his shirt and bag risked blocking up, but holding back slightly in development preserved enough tone to keep them dimensional. The highlights—particularly in the paper and his watch—offered a natural counterbalance. Grain, prominent but not intrusive, fit the gritty street atmosphere rather than working against it.

The photograph works because of its contradictions: a cold day that feels warm, a fleeting moment that hints at permanence, and a subject whose expression says he’s entirely at home in both.