Hell on Earth

Going for a walk before the rain with a Full spectrum and red filter shows a different reality.

Hell isn't always fire and brimstone.

Sometimes, it is a quiet, gilded trap.

A place of impossible beauty that holds you captive not with fear, but with its own suffocating, perfect light.

Memory and perception.

The gold is not the gold of autumn, but the gold of a fading dream, of a moment so intensely felt it has burned its color onto the world. The light doesn't fall. It pools, thick and heavy, turning the air into honey and the ground into a forgotten mirror.

To be lost here is a choice. It is the surrender to a personal truth that overpowers the common one. The path is not obscured by darkness, but by an overwhelming, luminous sameness. Every direction is the same beautiful, aching corridor. Every tree is a monument to a feeling I can't name.

Reality here is irrelevant. It is old because it feels ancient in my soul. It is golden because my gaze paints it so.

I am wandering, and lost, within it.

This is my hell on earth: not a punishment, but a state of being. A radiant, solitary confinement in a paradise of one's own making, where the only escape is to stop seeing the gold and start seeing the tree.

Or to accept that, sometimes, they are the very same thing.

You may also like

A walk among the tombstones in black and white

An abandonned old cemetery in the moutain. These are the black and white images.

One tree Six photos

Simple and straightforward.

Colors of a ghost town

It is hard for me to imagine people are actually living here. All I see is a desolated dirty hell hole. I don't see people, I don't see traffic, I don't even see a fucking stray cat or a bird. There is silence, there is no life, there are rotten derelict things.It is a ghost town.

Winter is here. With the cold, first snow, and lot of ice and frost. I'm focusing here on the tiny ice crystals I can see eraly in the morning.

Lost in a cursed forest

My old forest is not only golden. It is also cursed. New emotions and feelings just a couple feet away from the golden spots. Same place, different visions.

A foggy park in infrared

Fog, cold, bad light... There are good chances I will be alone in the park. I like that. Infrared might seem to be the best choice with this kind of light.

I love heat. I'm never more happy than when temperature is 100. I love the sun, the sensation of heat on my skin. Maybe I should live permanently in a place like Death Valley. It's pretty boring from a photographer point of view, but at least climate is just right for me.

Morning walk in a quiet world of trees

In a world on the verge of collapse, I took the Nikon D2Xs, the Tokina 10-24 and a graduated filter for a walk.

A walk among the tombstones in color

An abandonned old cemetery in the moutain. Autumn colors.

An aimless walk a Sunday morning

Goethe said "The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone". I walked alone, in the hope of finding, if not beauty, something that would catch my eye. Updated from "An aimless walk a sunday morning in a dead city,"

↑Back to Top