27 / 05
Май уходящий
19 / 05 / 2025
Over the weekend, I was walking past the South-West Market.
My favorite flea market is buzzing with activity — there are changes: proper, already operational trading rows have appeared, which I had filmed back in winter. It’s so much better than rummaging through rags on the asphalt. In general, with the arrival of stalls, everything has gained some substance, and items look much more presentable.
I also noticed that they almost allow filming openly. I’m surprised — maybe because trade is gaining civilized conditions, so the camera no longer causes panic. That’s good.
Go there on the weekend — it’s interesting.
19 / 05 / 2025
Streets of Spring
16 / 05 / 2025
And here’s what was captured with that same 50 mm lens on the May streets of Voronezh.
16 / 05 / 2025
Let’s talk about photography.
So, dear gentlemen, 35mm or 50mm — the dilemma of the century among street photographers. We’re talking about pure equivalents, taking the crop factor into account.
For myself, I’ve decided that there is an absolute point for composition, for a shot. And if with 50mm we’re always looking for how far to step back from that point, then 35mm is always about “how close to approach” it.
You can almost always approach. You can’t always step back.
And now begins the listing of the pros and cons of these focal lengths:
Pros of the 50mm focal length
- Proximity to the subject. A royal argument, no arguing with that — it’s a flush royal, I fold.
- Subject proportions are almost distortion-free. People are read not as additions to the composition, but as full-fledged individuals with an inner world.
- Less disruption of line angles due to reasonable proportions — it’s not a barrel lens, not a fisheye — often nothing needs fixing in post-processing.
- Immersion, personalization. 50mm is an accent. You shoot a cat — it’s an accent, the cat dominates the frame (it’s always been that way with cats). You shoot an ice cream stand — the ice cream rules the world.
The subject becomes not part of the world, but its main hero.
Cons of 50mm
- No matter what anyone says, but in wide, open spaces — somewhere with no end in sight to the horizon or the objects — 50mm compresses perspective, bringing distant objects much closer.
On one hand, that’s a plus if we’ve thought out the composition. But when the composition is chaotic, then whoever said that 50mm is closest to “human vision” was very wrong. No! That’s far from true. Space breaks apart, like in Nolan’s Inception — bringing the earth closer to the sky, twisting perspective, reducing it. 50 is the king of portraits, but space as a dimension of reality is not its forte.
There’s the so-called “Decisive Moment, ” but that’s only part of perceiving the world of photography. There’s also “decisive space, ” as well as “decisive color.”
- This focal length was loved by Bresson and others, and everything there is wonderful except for one thing: it’s only about people. But I want everything to work: the street, color, objects, people.
And that’s when we start talking about the unforgettable and irreplaceable! About the emperor of streets and spaces!
Ladies and gentlemen! Thirty-five millimeeeeters!
(applause is heard)
Pros of 35mm:
- This focal length allows you to stuff an entire world into the frame, even managing to close the back doors — nothing falls out. A precise shot with 35mm always evokes admiration for how amazing life is, how many colors, geometries, and interconnections it has.
It’s no accident that I got stuck on this perception of the world for a long time. It’s very close to me. Just people in the frame isn’t enough for me. Not enough. I want colors, lights, the boiling over of life!
- Rich and lavish. Shoot anything — at least from a reasonable angle, with a sufficient number of any objects — and it will look like a full-fledged exposure of reality.
You just need to not step back, but step forward. And then you simply feel something click — how everything aligns, fills up, and becomes that very infinite, eternal thing. Yes, you have to learn to use this focal length; it doesn’t reveal itself right away. But once it does — there’s none equal to it.
Cons of 35mm:
- Sometimes everything seems beautiful but distant. Sometimes you don’t have time to run after a fleeting expression of the world, after something interesting — it’s far away, almost like you need two buses to get there :)
- You’ll look like a not-entirely-sane person if you decide to take portraits of people on lively streets. You have to get very close with a good-natured smile — and it’s good if that smile doesn’t call in a police squad or an ambulance :)
- The city is huge, and sometimes you need to bring the background a little closer for expressiveness. On a straight stretch — for example, shooting from one riverbank to the other — 35mm loses.
That’s its flaw: it doesn’t like a straight-on, head-on view. It needs an angled perspective. And if you look closely at my photos, I always slightly turn the subject in perspective.
Between 35mm and 50mm there’s also 40mm, but that’s an absolutely cursed focal length, cursed by everyone. And when you look at photos taken with it, you get the feeling that you’ve been shortchanged — like you didn’t get the full 50mm or they cropped a proper 35mm.
I don’t recommend it. A terrible feeling — to the point that it starts giving you photographic complexes :)
That’s the gist of it. I’m not renouncing 50mm; I’ll still use it. But it seems that if I head into the city today, I’ll take only the 35mm.
I’ve seen blizzards and rains through it, and there was always enough of everything in the frame. This is my true love.
These were Morning Thoughts with you.
Morning Thoughts — long live neural connections :)
15 / 05 / 2026
На улице Южно-Моравской,
Не знавшей гламура и давки,
Вношу в путешествие правки —
Под вечер на рынок иду.
You may have come across these lines by an ancient Greek poetaster. Nothing much has changed: he still goes out in the evenings, sometimes for buckwheat, sometimes for bread, along this wonderful street.
The wide transport artery, stretching somewhere beyond the eternal horizon, is especially beautiful at sunset. Thanks to its length, landscape, and openness, the late dark-golden light floods the houses and roads with a unique atmosphere of celebration.
In the distance, you can see the bridge over the Don, and the sun’s reflections on the moving roofs of cars resemble silver fish swimming along an orange river.
The sound is different here: broad, grand, pompous. It feels like a large museum with enormous halls — everything can be examined in detail, without jostling, with pauses and hushed breaths.
The courtyards on Yuzhno-Moravskaya are always calm. On rare days, you might catch a bit of bustle involving a dozen or so people. Mostly, it’s endless grandma-style “chill” accompanied by the soothing murmur of “Mayak” radio from a window.
The small oases of street trading have an equally blissful and calming effect. It’s pleasant to listen to human speech, to look at the goods and the people. And there’s so much to see: an old man carrying a bottle of milk, a woman placing a green head of cabbage into a yellow bag. They discuss now war, now peace — all sorts of things.
It’s a pity all this is disappearing: real trade is being replaced by automated systems, leaving almost no chance for this human form of commerce. People in general are becoming less necessary — what matters are charts, ratings, and if machines, not people, can produce these indicators, people will easily be renounced. Such is the bourgeois world.
It’s May now. And in the evening hours, Yuzhno-Moravskaya is especially beautiful. I love this stretch from Tanais to Perkhorovich.
Such a tunnel of freedom, a magnificent springboard for soft light and the greenery born of May.
That very world, a living image, suitable for final credits and riding off into the sunset — or the sunrise.
13 / 05 / 2026
Spring in Voronezh is beautiful.
Lilacs flare up like fireflies; slender apple trees drift out of the private sector like white clouds, at the wind’s will. You can’t believe your ears that birds can sing like that, that the colors of plants can shimmer so vividly.
Even if all people were to disappear tomorrow, May would still come and scatter warm sunrises and rains, dandelions and coltsfoot like seeds across the courtyards. Even in a concrete corner tightly sealed from the sun, an airy lilac suddenly appears from somewhere.
The local cats have waited a long time for this season and, lounging lazily on the cool asphalt or the hot roofs of garages, now glance at passersby with the almost indifferent gaze of thousand-year-old sages.
You can go left, or right, or even straight ahead. Everywhere there will be blossoming, ripened color. In unimaginable places, flowers glow red.
I have seen the wild cold of winter here, the color-stingy expanse of winter; I have seen the lilac nights of these neighborhoods — but now everything is different.
This is precisely a story: you can start watching from the “now, ” or you can keep an internal chronology — that makes it even more interesting.
Take that lamppost: not long ago it was buried up to its neck in snow, and now something glows and blooms beneath it.
I watch how time has grown and become older. Now it is spring. Beautiful, young at heart, joy-giving, loving everyone and everything for no reason at all.
12 / 05 / 2026
Here There Be Tygers
I like warm, overcast days.
Perhaps this is a consequence of having lived for a long time in the North, where this particular weather genre becomes a part of life.
I like the long, heavy sky, the greenery not bleached by the midday sun, the even light of a sleepy day that itself forgets what time it is.
This is a special world and rhythm, and on such days, all kinds of walks become impressive. You lose track of time, the sense of it.
Today I wandered into quiet, cozy courtyards where the voices and sounds of the streets played like the best ambient tracks.
Truly — it all sounded not like the familiar voice of the city at all, but rather some secret music of existence. Perhaps people are simply tired and haven’t yet fully believed in the warmth, which is why the streets were empty, and the rare sounds seemed like a sparse yet intricately composed piece of weekend music.
The tall poplars, like columns, supported these cathedrals of silence in every courtyard. The faint rustle of tires, the sound of a warm breeze, a casually opened window. And again — almost silence.
I love this kind of overcast warmth of the city: to sit on a bench in some courtyard and feel as if you’ve been allowed to watch a cross-section of reality, exactly like a film. Do those behind all these walls know that our own life is just as inexorably slipping away?
A ten-minute break, you can buy a bottle of mineral water and set off again.
A few hours later, the sky grew sullen, and the distant sound of thunder resonated like a mysterious gong among these concrete mountains. Bright, intoxicating scents of blooming spread through the streets, and everything sang of spring.
Then a brief rain passed by, and it was beautiful. I pressed myself against a wall under the canopy of a random building entrance, somehow knowing that the rain would be short. Warm water fell to the ground, and it gladdened the eyes. The rain was not threatening, nor did it try to wash away the city; it came like a friend, to tell of the beginning of summer.
I wandered a bit more along the streets glistening with water, grew finally tired, and, after waiting for the bus, headed home.
And what can one say? The best often passes without a pat on the back. We wait for months for vacations, for a window of rest in places we’ve never been. But does that truly change us? And even if it does, perhaps only because we are ready for it. What would happen if tomorrow you set out on a free urban journey, ready for it to change something?
Ray Bradbury has a story called 'Here There Be Tygers.' The narrative concerns a planet that turns out to be alive and returns to people precisely their secret desires.
Whatever you wish for on that planet — that shall come true, that shall be reflected
11 / 05 / 2026
May radiance of a blooming city
And as soon as he changed the focal length from 35 mm to 50 mm, space itself immediately began to reassemble the visual bouquets, producing entirely new notes of reality.
Suddenly, a familiar street is no longer just a cluster of colors and lines — it now possesses a certain fleeting individuality in the gesture of a passerby, the echo of a shop window reflection, the shadow of a bus. Everything changes.
And so it is in life itself: change your perspective just a little — and everything becomes different, even that which you were accustomed to
09 / 05 / 2026
A holiday that is always with you.
Streets and people of Voronezh on a fine May day.
09 / 05 / 2026
Happy Victory Day!
Poems
—
2025, photo — from yesterday.
_______
А что я знаю о войне?
В советском танке не горел,
И на обугленной заре
Мой взвод меня не похоронит.
Я не барак, где чёрный номер
Ползёт ожогом по рукам,
И имя дьявола — Дахау,
И не клевать меня вороне.
Язык не брал мой языка,
Не знал окопного песка.
Стальные челюсти штыка
Не разрывали грудь и горло.
Я не вошёл солдатом в город,
Где смертью вырыт котлован,
А рядом — бледная вдова
Над люлькой шепчет заговоры.
Я не встречал сгоревших сёл,
Но тот, кто встретил, — видел всё.
Там был расстрелян дед Аксён,
Спасая скот от армий скотских.
Я не ходил к церквам сироткой,
И не умею без ноги
Надеть протез и сапоги,
И Курской не видал Дуги,
Бредя за пыльной самоходкой.
Меня не выломал снаряд,
И не повешен мой отряд.
Я не блокадный Ленинград,
Не слёзы беженцев в теплушке,
Не хлеб от бомбы потонувший.
Я только в поле — тишина
По всем ушедшим именам,
Что жизнь свою отдали нам.
Вот всё, что знал
За них живущий.
08 / 05 / 2026
From May wanderings
07 / 05 / 2026
Celebration of Victory Day last year.
Showing these photos for the first time.
06 / 05 / 2026
Hello, May!
06 / 05 / 2026
🎈 The color of my mood is red.
For years, I shot on a clean 35 mm. It’s a wonderful focal length for visual storytelling about space and people, but to focus more on, say, the people themselves, it’s worth using 50 mm.
That’s exactly what I’ll try using in my shooting throughout the summer — let’s see how it goes.
05 / 05 / 2026
— Free walking.
—?
— I’m
performing a reflexive fluctuation within an anthropogenic landscape,
converting visual perception into static matrix-based artifacts.
—???
— I’m just walking around the city and taking photos.
04 / 05 / 2026
This is exactly what May 4th looks like in Voronezh.
And to see all this authentic magnificence, you don’t need to leave the city — it’s enough to just go wherever your eyes take you. In Voronezh, all roads lead to the private sector, and that’s wonderful.
A couple of hours ago, I heard geese behind someone’s wooden fence joyfully cackling in praise of the sun and spring, heard hoes loosening the soil, and barrels being filled with water for watering.
In today’s world, that’s worth a lot.
02 / 05 / 2026
— Oh great, here we go!
— What’s happening?
— Everything’s starting.
14 / 04 / 2026
Spring days and nights
The night ones — straight out of today’s rainy evening
12 / 04 / 2026
April 12 coincided with Cosmonautics Day and Easter.
12 / 04 / 2026
From the spring wanderings
11 / 04 / 2026
A poetographic sketch inspired by the poetry of Alexander Blok:
“O spring, without end and without edge…”
_______
I was doing a spontaneous inventory of my files and remembered that I shot this video back in the spring of 2023.
Yes, there is something strange about perceiving your own work later on. You realize that you always did everything right, that only clouds, birds, and the inner flight truly matter.
Everything else is sheer junk of life, the closet of everyday routine, from which, every now and then, fall out bits of news, lamps with cats, or the weed seeds of a dark forest—things that give nothing and bring nothing forth. For the most part, it’s just routine nonsense that persuades you to live by the rules of pointless endless consumption—and when you look back, years have gone into it.
And it’s frightening that you will inevitably forget all of this, that you will grow into something that makes you not yourself, alien to your own reflection; yet in the middle of some empty conversation, you suddenly freeze as images flicker through your mind like a kaleidoscope, like a map you’ve remembered after being lost for a long time.
Only on a thoughtful, rainy evening does the singing water wash away everything superficial, leaving the essential, the only important things—clouds, birds, inner flight. And only then do you understand that that closet of daily life exists precisely so that, pushing through mountains of clutter—through work and worries, traffic jams and constant rushing—you might suddenly find yourself, call out to yourself, bring yourself outside.
And what is shown there? There are long clouds and high-flying birds, which neither realized nor ever will realize that beneath them something was rustling so tensely, trying to appear the center of the universe.
Clouds, birds, inner flight. Stay the course, ignore the trivial. Because in truth, nothing else exists. And if I am wrong—then where is all the rest?
Only the birds and the sky remain.
10 / 04 / 2026
One day, the city wanted to give its streets to dreamers for one single night, unnoticed by anyone else. Just like that — so that they could finally wander in silence through the streets and courtyards. But how to do this without anyone noticing?..
And then the city came up with cold spring rains.
10 / 04 / 2026
Weather Category 'A': A rainy evening in a cold spring.”
09 / 04 / 2026
Poetographic Sketch Based on the Poems of Nikitin
(“When the sunset with its farewell rays…”)
as interpreted by Lyubov Strizhenova
Monologue from the film “Cloud Paradise”
25 / 03 / 2026
One of the oldest spring traditions in Voronezh is to make your way, toward evening, to the Chernavsky Bridge.
I was lucky to join this aesthetic ritual today. As always, I thought there wouldn’t be a single decent shot—but then you look, and—oh—there’s something.
It’s wonderful, but once I start shooting, it becomes hard to stop: I forget I was doing anything else at all. And if you were to read me someone’s incredible poetry at that moment—I would hardly hear it. Before my eyes, marvelous lights and colors drift by; I’m no longer thinking in words.
Yes. I should probably try to shift into other modes of creating. For now, I have more than enough photographs; they need to be realized in some larger project—I don’t yet know which one (that’s a lie, I do know, I just never have the time)—at the very least, I need to sort through all of them.
I love everything I do, and I have no idea where to find even another 700–800 years to grasp everything that interests me.
Photography is closest to poetry: you don’t know what will happen, but everything already exists in life—you just have to see, hear, and say it.
💾 23 / 03 / 2026
Winter Nights
As part of the fantastic program “Sort All the Photos at Once”
22 / 03 / 2026
Meanwhile, on the spring streets.
I’ve finally figured out how to shoot properly to achieve maximum light and color.
20 / 03 / 2026
In a Far Journey for Buckwheat
a book of poems with original illustrations by the author
Description
This book is the fruit of several years of creative work. A fruit from which a tree may grow.
I do not know what it will give rise to: perhaps it will fall by the asphalt roadside and lie there until the end of the world, never to see the life-giving sun; perhaps it will become the beginning of new gardens.
This is not even a goal — it is the air I breathe, it is myself speaking because I am able to speak. Such is the path, and such is the word.
In a few days (on March 26), I will turn 42, and I wanted to take a look at part of the path I have traveled from a distance. To leave behind past traces. This is necessary in order to move forward.
The book includes over 130 selected poetic works. Many of them are closely connected to Voronezh.
The book is illustrated with my own works, which I created while working as a vector graphics artist on international stock platforms.
Book in Russian
Download links
How it looks
I recommend downloading the EPUB version — it is optimized for mobile phones as well.
18 / 03 / 2026
Мы на бессмертье цифровое,
Здесь все уже обречены,
Но в нём не теплится живое —
В бессмертье этом все мертвы.
И между трендом или брендом,
Между «купи» или «продай»,
Висят распятые легенды
О дальних марсовых садах.
И мы, потомки космонавтов,
Тоскуем по сиянью звёзд.
Там высоко — живая правда,
Там всё задумано всерьёз.
💾 17 / 03 / 2026
Ночи зимы
из архива за 2024–2026 год
16 / 03 / 2026
We continue to observe the spring city.
Perhaps not everyone notices it, but in spring the light truly becomes different — it gains a palpable strength. It ripens, awakening from beneath the white snow of the sky. A strength so tangible that, as you pass by, you can feel warmth radiating from the walls.
Toward evening, special moments of this culmination appear. At such times I completely forget that I am also supposed to press the shutter. It is simply a pleasure to walk and watch how the light creates images. In the broken language of shop-window reflections, it tells the story of a new March.
We ourselves are reflections of light. Photography, quite literally, means “writing with light” in Latin, and a photographer — like any human being — is one who, for thousands of years, has been searching for the best place beneath it.
16 / 03 / 2026
Today was a beautiful, sun-filled day—so long that it almost seemed as if the sun had no intention of setting, as though something were gently holding it back.
I’m beginning to explore these new places more closely: 9 January Street and Truda Avenue.
The courtyards are quite intriguing. There is still much to wander through and discover.
14 / 03 / 2026
Me: Just trying to get home this evening.
Beauty everywhere you look: Pssst, hey buddy, want to buy some photos?
11 / 03 / 2026
What can you shoot in three hours in the city?
Quite a lot, actually. Yesterday I stepped out for a short while into the real world. The spring sun is in no hurry now — no longer the indifferent sphere that only recently looked down on our everyday life with cold detachment. It plays, it rejoices, it paints light in the alleyways, it runs along the reflections in the puddles. Everything around fills with color and life.
Where should you go? Best to go wherever your eyes lead you. You look at everything like an unspoiled tourist. What’s in this courtyard? And in that one? Everything feels different. You hardly recognize the streets as they shrug off their snowy half-coats.
And even if you take no photos — that’s fine. Let it be so. Simply seeing is already a kind of happiness. You may tell no one, perhaps capture nothing at all — and yet secret wonders are shown to you anyway.
And what did I see? A lot. How an alphabet of shadows appears on fences. How the spring waters run downhill in waves, as if it were some kind of transport line carrying water along.
Whether you tell others about these wonders is up to you. But they will remain wonders all the same, even if you reveal them.
11 / 03 / 2026
Когда Мартино Весначелли
Тебе на ломаной капели
Предложит солнца и вина,
Поймёшь, что это не ученья,
А настоящая весна.
Грачи и кошки прилетели,
И город знает о растеньях,
Что снова женщины — цветы.
И разбегаются качели
Из песенки, что помнишь ты.
Синеют дали и пролески,
И незнакомки всё прелестней,
И с розой тонкая рука.
Замыслит рыцарь у подъезда
Свиданье с девой из ларька.
И нам пора по теплотрассам,
Маршрутками второго класса,
Встречать рождение листвы.
Всё будет музыкой прекрасной,
Такой, что не из головы.
08 / 03 / 2026
If you gathered all the artists of the planet and gave them just one day to realize their vision, they would turn that day into art.
Life is a work of art — a monumental exhibition, a museum of reality that simply never informed you that you are part of the display.
And if you look at it as a boundless exhibit, an ever-changing painting, much becomes visible. We stand in a shining hall, and above us the planets revolve.
Our time passes, and after it comes the time of others. They too will enter these cosmic halls, cautiously looking around, not fully understanding why all of this exists.
This is all about us and for us.
Only we are capable of recognizing beauty — of turning the spring wind into a firework of colors, of loving the unimaginable, the incomprehensible.
Right now we are at a point marked as March 8, 2026.
That is the physics of reality, but there is also its metaphysics. For example, we can all travel through time.
And it is hard to believe that an ordinary camera is one of humanity’s most magnificent inventions.
Just think about it: metal crumbles, ancient cities turn to dust over the centuries, we ourselves are flying somewhere on this planet without quite knowing where — yet any photograph can show all of it from the outside. Time is inside it, but in another form. Without the excess, without our superficial bustle. Time as a fact.
You probably know that I never hurry to go through what I’ve shot. But today I suggest looking at the spring that was two years ago. An unimaginable mass of events has already passed since those frozen moments, yet they remain. Signs have changed, we have grown older, but facts remain facts.
Forty photographs of the Voronezh spring of 2024.
Travel through time. Admire the wonders that are everywhere: reflections in puddles, flowers in shop windows, the very possibility of living and seeing.
Of course, there will also be minutes of gloom and boredom, routine will come — but do not forget where you are. And that will save and preserve the sharpness of your perception.
This exhibition will hardly last for us longer than a hundred years. Whether it is poems, photographs, or simply a glance — everything begins with an inner light capable of dancing.
They say talented people are talented in everything. There is a reason for that: this light takes different forms. If you remember it, it will find thousands of incarnations.
Some will say that all this is just beautiful words. Fine. But then what are we all doing here? What is the meaning of it? Just like that, by itself?
No. If we created pyramids and starships, it means there is a secret fire within us that illuminates galaxies. With the torch of thought and aspiration we will uncover the mysteries of the night sky.
Such is the path.
We are limited by biology, by the mechanics of our bodies, but always, for centuries, we have looked at distant stars and known that we are made of their shimmering dust.
And you are alive — and everything is art.
07 / 03 / 2026
🌷 On the seventh of March he wandered through the city, sensing that the light had already changed entirely. He took pleasure in photographing the sparkling puddles, the long, living shadows, the sunlit streets, the smiling faces of passersby.
The very fabric of space seemed to sing solemnly that winter was over, and he thought that perhaps there was no need to feel sad when everything around him was rejoicing like this. After all, this holiday must have been created for a reason—could one really pass it by without noticing?
06 / 03 / 2026
Сырому марту не до стужи.
Зима забыта. Тчк.
И мне показывает лужа
Деревья, небо, облака.
Она просмотров не набрала,
И я гляжу в неё один.
В ней зонт качается овалом
И муза грустная под ним.
В ней, как паром, отчалит пазик,
Пойдёт по транспортной реке.
В ней даже то, что не расскажешь
На человечьем языке.
Возможно, в хлябях параллельных
Наш город каменный — вода.
Там вечны люди и апрели,
Пока проходят здесь года.
И тот бескрайний мокро-космос,
Где Млечный Путь бежит ручьём,
Дождём весенним ради хохмы
В простую лужу помещён.
В ней выше птицы и заводы,
Сирень и Северный Урал.
В ней даже ты стоишь и смотришь,
Хоть я тебя в неё не звал.
04 / 03 / 2026
A remarkable event has happened: my poems have been published in the truly iconic literary magazine “45th Parallel.”
I won’t mention the magnitude of the names already featured there. I can only add that I have always created — and continue to create — without looking at what I might gain from it; perhaps that’s why everything unfolds as it does.
> Page
My gratitude to the editorial team.
02 / 03 / 2026
— What’s the best shutter speed for a photo?
— 1/365.
Spring has arrived, and at last I’ve sorted through last year’s spring archives. You’ll see the Left and Right Banks, the legendary courtyards of Mashmet, the Washermen’s Quarter, even Utochkina Street — along with other sunlit streets of Voronezh.
By now, you’ve probably noticed it yourself: the light has changed. It’s higher, more ceremonial. You can wander without fear of frostbite — though this winter, that was a real possibility. But that’s behind us now. You can continue, or begin anew. Anything is possible.
I’m waiting for those days too. When the camera becomes a compass, guiding the eyes toward the heart. Just a little longer — and the golden evenings will arrive, young lime-green leaves will spill into the courtyards, warm winds will rise, and reflections will shimmer in shop windows.
Everything will come. And everything will be just fine.
Spring Album
(March–May 2025)
