Photography

Versailles in love.

Paris after dark…

untitled.

A bed is not always a home.

Sharp lines, quiet purpose.

Small details…

Even the most iconic silhouettes feel softer in the fog.

« I knocked at your door, I knocked at your heart, for it to let me in. But beneath your closed eyelids there was the closed door, and when I opened your door, I saw that my heart was not there. » - Paul Éluard

« I carved your name on the stone of Paris, on the walls, in the sky, on life itself, so that all would know that I love you. » - Paul Éluard

Love died quietly, without noise or warning. What once burned bright now lies cold, a shadow of laughter, a ghost of touch, leaving only echoes in empty rooms.

Two strangers, a beer in hand, a fleeting moment frozen. Smiles and stories I’ll never know, but a spark of life caught in the city’s concrete.

lost in the horizon, where the sky meets the sea