Journal
Fragments of a creative life
My Streets
Visual diary of presence, transition, and observation across the city.
Same places, different stories..
Visual diary of presence, transition, and observation across the city.
Same places, different stories..
My streets.
A moveable feast
“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you…”
Ernest Hemingway
“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you…”
Ernest Hemingway
I travelled widely in my younger years, living in different cities, each leaving their own trace. Later, more mature, I arrived in Paris.
It didn’t feel like a beginning. More like a place where everything I had lived before could finally converge.
The city works for me as a container for memory and experience, quietly stirring them, letting them collide and evolve.
From that mixture, something beautiful sometimes emerges.
Notre Dame
I still find myself stopping in front of Notre-Dame quite often. It’s something that never really becomes “familiar” in the usual sense.
I still find myself stopping in front of Notre Dame quite often.
I’m lucky to pass by it regularly, and each time it feels slightly different — the light, the atmosphere, the rhythm of the crowd moving around it.
Sometimes I just look for a moment, sometimes it turns into a quick sketch or a couple of black and white photos.
It’s one of those places that quietly pulls you in without asking for attention.
