At the edge of the forest, where the scent of pine merges with the salty of the sea, lies a narrow strip of beach. The sun, still low in the sky, strokes golden fingers through the shoreline and touches the tops of the sand, allowing the light to glide along the shore in gentle lanes.
The trees lean forward slightly, as if to greet the water, their branches deep and dark against the warm glow of the sky. Among the greenery, patches of yellow light up from flowering shrubs, small bursts of colour in the filtered light. At the foot of the slope, boulders lie like silent sentinels, battered by years of wind and waves.
On the beach, each wave draws a new pattern in the sand, while stones and shells tinkle softly under the receding water. There is no path that leads further, only the invitation to walk slowly, listening to the rustling of leaves and the whispering of the sea.
It is a place where boundaries blur: where forest and shore, light and shadow, earth and water gently touch and release each other.
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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