In the quiet heart of morning, the sun lifts its glow over a field still caught in mist and cold. A soft orange circle breaks through the mist, while the sky is filled with faint traces of passing clouds and streaks of condensation slowly fading away. The landscape under this light is covered in a veil of hoarfrost, giving the plants and shrubs a silver sheen.
The silhouettes of bare trees are scattered across the plain, their shapes vague and almost dreamlike in the thick mist. Each branch seems to bear the chill, each blade of grass catching the first light that gently warms the world. There is a silence so full that you can almost hear the frozen grass crunching beneath your feet.
This moment captures the transition between night and day, a fragile balance in which everything still seems possible. It is an ode to the stillness of winter mornings, to the way light and mist together can transform a landscape into a painting that exists only for a few moments before the sun changes it forever.
Each photograph is a doorway to another world.
Maybe a world you recognise, maybe one you only discover as soon as you look at it.
Sometimes they are fragments of a memory that never really existed, sometimes a feeling you can't put into words.
In my photography, I search for..
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