photographer_1971
THE LAST LIGHT
There is something about me that makes me run away from the city and takes me to the mountains. There is something in me that invites me to contemplate that green sea of undulating horizons as looking for a place that is familiar to me. There is something in me that likes to hear the noise of the river in the rainy season ... and the mud in my shoes and the smell of smoke in the square early in the morning. There is something about me that I enjoy with my few things and that makes me wash my clothes with my own hands. There is something in me that already lived another life.
THE LAST LIGHT
There is something about me that makes me run away from the city and takes me to the mountains. There is something in me that invites me to contemplate that green sea of undulating horizons as looking for a place that is familiar to me. There is something in me that likes to hear the noise of the river in the rainy season ... and the mud in my shoes and the smell of smoke in the square early in the morning. There is something about me that I enjoy with my few things and that makes me wash my clothes with my own hands. There is something in me that already lived another life.