There are places you don’t go looking for; they come to you as a gift, an unexpected invitation carrying the flavor of another era. That’s how this small journey began—with a phone call and a lunch with friends from another lifetime.
The kind of meeting that, even as you accept it, you know will take you somewhere else. A former convent, a place steeped in history and silence, suspended in its own atmosphere. The building seemed to belong to a time a few hundred years removed from our own. Thick walls, weathered stone, and narrow windows filtered the light like an ancient film set—perfect for an architectural photography reportage.
Corridors twisted into intricate paths, nested like the branches of a centuries-old tree. Rooms connected by uneven floors and small staircases, doors opening into unexpected spaces, secret passages that told stories of lives long forgotten. Every step was a discovery, every turn revealed a new fragment of beauty. It was a true landing in a parallel world, a travel photography journey with no passport required.
I wish I had taken many more photographs. Every corner was a natural frame, a postcard speaking of hidden places and a world that endures through time. But my camera often rested; I was too busy listening—to the voices, the memories, the emotions woven into that architecture.
There was the joy of reunion, and at the same time, a delicate melancholy, as if the convent held within its walls our own shadows as well. A fragile balance, suspended between light and shade, one I didn’t want to disturb with the sound of a shutter.
I left with the feeling I had lived a real dream: an unexpected landing that will forever remain part of my personal atlas of places and memories. Perhaps one day I’ll return, camera in hand, to complete the story and capture what, this time, I chose to experience rather than document.
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