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Silence over Šilo
Šilo at dusk.
Heavy clouds, filled with the scent of rain, settle gently above the Tiha bay.
Across the water, the village lights shimmer like memories — warm, quiet, ever-present.
Here, where the sea remembers your steps, every night has its rhythm.
A farewell without words — just light and reflection.
Tišina nad Šilom
Šilo at dusk.
Heavy clouds, filled with the scent of rain, settle gently above the Tiha bay.
Across the water, the village lights shimmer like memories — warm, quiet, ever-present.
Here, where the sea remembers your steps, every night has its rhythm.
A farewell without words — just light and reflection.
Kad nebo odluči krenuti prema horizontu, kao u letu, oblaci dobiju krila.
More šumi pod njima, stijene stoje kao nijemi svjedoci, a valovi – razbijaju tišinu.
Jedan od onih trenutaka kad se čini da priroda diše punim plućima.
When the sky seems to move toward the horizon, as if flying, clouds grow wings.
The sea whispers below, rocks stand as silent witnesses, and waves — break the silence.
One of those moments when nature breathes deeply.
Quand le ciel semble voler vers l’horizon, les nuages prennent leur envol.
La mer murmure, les rochers observent, les vagues brisent le silence.
Un instant où la nature respire à plein poumons.
Wenn der Himmel sich zum Horizont neigt, scheinen die Wolken Flügel zu bekommen.
Das Meer rauscht, die Felsen schweigen, und die Wellen durchbrechen die Stille.
Ein Augenblick, in dem die Natur tief durchatmet.
Quando il cielo sembra volare verso l’orizzonte, le nuvole prendono il volo.
Il mare sussurra, le rocce osservano, le onde infrangono il silenzio.
Un momento in cui la natura respira a pieni polmoni.
Cuando el cielo se lanza hacia el horizonte, las nubes despliegan sus alas.
El mar susurra, las rocas observan, las olas rompen el silencio.
Un momento en que la naturaleza respira profundamente.
Nella quiete ovattata dell’Oasi i tronchi affiorano come ricordi che la nebbia non riesce a cancellare.
Il silenzio si specchia nell’acqua, e il tempo sembra trattenere il respiro.
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In the muffled stillness of the Oasis, the stumps rise like memories the fog cannot erase.
Silence mirrors itself on the water, and time seems to hold its breath.
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Un rêve épuré —
terre de feu et de glace
les elfes rêvent
A pure dream —
land of fire and of ice
the elves are dreaming
Hreinn draumur —
land elds og íss
álfarnir dreyma
A vast body of water lies beneath a sky thick with judgment—clouds layered like ancient grief, light breaking through in fractured defiance. The surface shimmers, not with peace, but with warning. In the corner, tree limbs reach like witnesses, framing a scene that feels more reckoning than reflection. This is not serenity. It’s the moment before something is named. The atmosphere is heavy, sacred, and unresolved. The water remembers. The sky watches. And the silence between them is not empty—it’s waiting.
My latest photography is now available for purchase at crsimages.pixels.com/, featuring prints, framed art, and more from my curated collections.
Un rêve épuré —
terre de feu et de glace
blizzard au solstice
A purified dream —
land of fire and of ice
blizzard at solstice
Hreinn draumur —
eldjörð og íshella
ofsaveður á sólhvörfum
The path vanished into white. Every step uncertain, every step necessary.
Only the sound of our own steps proved we were still on the way.
👉 Discover more on www.photohikers.de (German Website)
Der Pfad verschwand im Weiß. Jeder Schritt unsicher, jeder Schritt notwendig.
Nur das Geräusch unserer Schritte zeigte, dass wir noch unterwegs waren.
👉 Mehr findest du auf www.photohikers.de
(HR):
Kad puni mjesec podigne svoju zlatnu glavu iznad modrine mora, svijet nakratko zašuti.
Kamen po kamen, hrpa po hrpa — ljudi slažu svoje misli dok hodaju ovom mjesečevom površinom.
Nije to Mjesec, već Punta Šilo. No večeras se čini bližim nego ikad.
Fotografirano iz ruke starim objektivom, bez stativa, ali s puno ljubavi.
(EN):
When the full moon rises above the Adriatic like a golden coin, silence falls.
Stone by stone, step by step — people pass, leaving behind small piles as quiet monuments.
This is not the Moon, but Punta Šilo. Yet tonight, it feels closer than ever.
Captured handheld with an old lens, without a tripod — but full of heart.
Soleil de minuit
Terres et fjords à l’infini —
L’or luit sur les elfes
Midnight sun aglow
endless lands and fjords unfold —
gold gleams on the elves
Miðnætursólin
óendanleg lönd og firðir —
gullið glóir á álfum
A quiet morning unfolds over the Krickenbeck Lakes as the golden sun rises behind a veil of mist. Framed by an old oak tree and dense riverside greenery, this view captures the serene magic of dawn at one of the most diverse wetland landscapes in the Lower Rhine region.
This moment was taken during a photohike at sunrise, when light, reflection and silence converge. The area is known for its birdlife, reed beds and moorland biodiversity — and this tranquil mood reflects its poetic essence.
📝 Read the full story behind this image in my English blog post:
Single‑walled fuel pipelines laid across natural watercourse floodplains are more than engineering shortcuts — they are ecological time bombs. A single breach can leach toxins into fragile Arctic waterways, poisoning fish, wildlife, and the communities that depend on them.
Yet we continue to celebrate “environmental stewardship” in glossy reports and political speeches, while ignoring the quiet hazards buried beneath the snow. This hypocrisy — professing care for the land while permitting infrastructure that undermines it — reveals a society unwilling to confront the cost of its convenience.
Meet the photographer:
Morning mist drifts like whispered memories across Romsdalsfjorden, softening the sharp peaks of Rauma’s embrace.
The sun’s frail warmth strains through the veil, unveiling fragments of autumn gold along Klungnes and Torvikeidet.
Here, silence reigns — only the fjord breathes, mirroring the light of centuries past.
Fun Fact:
Romsdalsfjorden has served as a natural gateway between the coast and inland Norway for centuries. During the Viking Age, ships sailed these calm yet treacherous waters bound for the open sea — the same fjord that today mirrors the serenity of Western Norway’s autumn mists.
A tranquil sunset scene on the shores of Koh Chang, Thailand, where silhouetted figures walk along shimmering sand beneath a sky washed in warm tropical hues
A lone tree stood as our silent guardian.
In the fading mist it felt as if nature itself paused to watch us pass.
👉 Discover more on www.photohikers.de (German Website)
Ein einzelner Baum war unser stiller Wächter.
Im abziehenden Nebel war es, als hielte die Natur selbst inne, um unseren Weg zu beobachten.
👉 Mehr findest du auf www.photohikers.de
They stood where the water meets the mountains, saying nothing. Sometimes presence is louder than words, and silence becomes a dialogue. Lake Toblino was not just scenery, but a horizon to lean on, a space for thought.
Seasonal transition in the Arctic is a masterclass in impermanence. Skies shift from steel to fire in minutes, casting snow-covered islands and quiet waters in a palette of moods. If you don’t like the look of the sky—just wait five minutes. It’s already becoming something else.
High tide in Arctic summer.
The river gleams like a silver thread through tundra stone. A lone yellow tent glows—fragile against the vastness. Time slows. The wind carries stories older than speech, and the tide whispers of meltwater and memory.
Crossing the old bridge, we reached the castle itself.
A timeless arrival, the fairytale no longer a vision but reality.
👉 Discover more on www.photohikers.de (German Website)
Über die alte Brücke erreichten wir die Burg.
Eine zeitlose Ankunft – das Märchen nicht mehr Vision, sondern Wirklichkeit.
👉 Mehr findest du auf www.photohikers.de
a single wingbeat against a sky of fading fire. the sea sleeps below, the hills exhale, and the bird — unnamed, unhurried — drifts through the silence of goodbye.
The horizon exhales its last breath of color,
a shoreline caught between memory and forgetting.
Tourists and locals pause together at the edge of light,
witnesses to the day’s surrender.
What remains is not the day itself,
but the echo of its passing.
Meet the photographer : youtu.be/-iMIpSY85K4?si=49HeBYGjZCfI1pcX
the rugged land of pollença, nestled deep in the mountains, felt untouched by time. the olive trees stood as old sentinels, their gnarled forms telling stories of patience and survival. rocks scattered like forgotten relics, warmed by the sun that painted soft shadows across the landscape. the air carried the scent of earth and wild herbs, a quiet hymn to nature’s endurance. here, amidst the chaos of the world, was a moment of stillness—an ode to simplicity, eternal and pure.
A Northwind in December tends to bring with it stormy weather.
Meet the photographer : youtu.be/-iMIpSY85K4?si=49HeBYGjZCfI1pcX
🇫🇷 Bro Gozh ma Zadoù
Hommage à la Bretagne éternelle. Terre de rochers, de brume et de légendes.
"Vieux pays de mes pères", souffle l’hymne… et la mer répond.
🇬🇧 Bro Gozh ma Zadoù
A tribute to timeless Brittany. Land of rocks, mist, and legends.
"Old land of my fathers," the anthem whispers… and the sea answers.
Bro Gozh ma Zadoù
En enor da Vreizh da viken. Douar ar mein, ar walez hag ar mojennoù.
“Bro gozh ma zadoù”, a gan an henvro… ha ar mor a respont.
At last, the castle appeared along the path.
From mist to stone, from uncertainty to clarity – the journey’s promise became visible.
👉 Discover more on www.photohikers.de (German Website)
Endlich tauchte die Burg am Weg auf.
Vom Nebel zum Stein, von der Ungewissheit zur Klarheit – das Versprechen der Reise wurde sichtbar.
👉 Mehr findest du auf www.photohikers.de
In Iqaluit, winter’s weight is measured not only in drifts but in connection. The airport is the city’s sole lifeline to other communities and the South, a fragile thread of supply and travel across nine months of snow and ice.
Snow removal here is more than maintenance—it is vigilance, survival, and continuity. Airport staff remain alert through the long Arctic winter, ensuring that flights can land, goods can arrive, and the community can endure. This image captures the stark choreography of resilience, where infrastructure meets necessity and daily labor becomes the poetry of endurance.
Meet the photographer : youtu.be/-iMIpSY85K4?si=49HeBYGjZCfI1pcX
The journey ends in clarity: Eltz Castle revealed in its full majesty.
A fairytale fortress, timeless and strong, closing the path we walked through mist.
👉 Discover more on www.photohikers.de (German Website)
Die Reise endet in Klarheit: Burg Eltz in voller Majestät.
Ein Märchenschloss, zeitlos und stark – Abschluss des Weges, den wir durch Nebel gegangen sind.
👉 Mehr findest du auf www.photohikers.de
A November morning on Frobisher Bay at low tide—
The sea withdraws in silence, baring its dark, glistening bones.
Snow clings to basalt like memory to stone,
and gulls drift between land and sea.
Across the water, the hills brace beneath a leaden sky,
clouds pressing down, foreshadowing the iron grip of winter yet to come.
seen from the Gaisberg with Salzburg -
Typical view in this area in late autumn.
See the large size, please!
Waikiki leans into the hour of gold,
where towers soften and the ocean glows.
Locals linger, tourists pause,
all drawn to the horizon’s slow surrender.
It is less a sunset than a gathering,
a shared silence before the night begins.
Meet the photographer : youtu.be/-iMIpSY85K4?si=49HeBYGjZCfI1pcX
This is the point of entry.
The stage is set.
Light arrives before words,
before any certainty.
It offers itself for a few minutes
and then disappears, without repetition.
Here, everything happens only once.
Light changes, shadows shift,
tones decide on their own
whether to guide or cut the idea.
Afterwards, there is only the return.
And the necessary doubt:
whether the poetry
was truly there.
My work unfolds in times that belong to no one.
Brief, unstable thresholds where light decides before the gaze.
For me, photographing means staying until the very last moment
in which the image exists.
Questo è il punto di ingresso.
Il palcoscenico è pronto.
La luce arriva prima delle parole,
prima di ogni certezza.
Si offre per pochi minuti
e poi scompare senza lasciare repliche.
Qui tutto accade una sola volta.
La luce cambia, le ombre si spostano,
le sfumature decidono da sole
se accompagnare o ferire l’idea.
Dopo, resta solo il ritorno.
E il dubbio necessario:
chissà se la poesia
era davvero lì.
Il mio lavoro si svolge in tempi che non appartengono a nessuno.
Sono soglie brevi, instabili, dove la luce decide prima dello sguardo.
Fotografare, per me, significa restare fino all’ultimo istante
in cui l’immagine esiste.