View allAll Photos Tagged humanpresence
El Mercado "10 de Agosto" de Cuenca (Ecuador). Traditional selling place in the marketplace of Cuenca. Take some to zoom in and look at each bag and help me to identify all products...
In Rome, not every story is written with a capital H...
"Le Monde Réél"
A Rome, toutes les histoires ne s’écrivent pas avec un grand H...
✨ Full gallery here: European Street Chronicles – a photographic journey through public life, contrasts and quiet moments across the continent.
👉 View the full album: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720325179...
"Sieste urbaine"
Un homme endormi devant un portail en plein centre de Rome se repose en pleine canicule.
A man asleep in front of a gate in the centre of Rome is resting in the middle of a heatwave.
✨ Full gallery here: European Street Chronicles – a photographic journey through public life, contrasts and quiet moments across the continent.
👉 View the full album: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720325179...
⭐️ Win a challenge on 18/12/24, thema: Barefoot : www.flickr.com/groups/1744262@N24/discuss/72157721922045512/
⭐️ Win a contest on 11/07/25: www.flickr.com/groups/3467217@N22/discuss/721577219230336...
Walking around in the Taliarte, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands) area, with my old & light camera, looking for a new inspirational way to see the world. Lines, colours, contrasts…
Walking around in the small village of Playa del Hombre, with my old & light camera, looking for a new inspirational way to see the world. Lines, colours, contrasts…
This young pizzaiola takes her break on this doorstep, not far from the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa. There's a tourist frenzy rumbling around her, but she's sitting there quietly, living her life. And I see her, all contrasting colours. That's all it takes to create inverted colours.
✨ Full gallery here: European Street Chronicles – a photographic journey through public life, contrasts and quiet moments across the continent.
👉 View the full album: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720325179...
Cette jeune pizzaiola prend sa pause sur le pas de cette porte, non loin de la fameuse tour de Pise. Il y a une frénésie touristique autour d’elle qui gronde, mais elle est assise là tranquille, elle vis sa vie. Et moi je la vois, toute en contraste de couleurs. Il n’en faut pas plus pour créer les couleurs inversées.
The Salt Pans of Tenefé, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands). A long view the evaporation tanks of sea water from which salt will be extracted. In the background some wind turbines, largely used in Canary Islands.
Walking around in the small village of Playa del Hombre, with my old & light camera, looking for a new inspirational way to see the world. Lines, colours, contrasts…
Walking around in the Playa del Hombre, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands) area, with my old & light camera, looking for a new inspirational way to see the world. Lines, colours, contrasts…
captured at the entrance of estación atocha during the spanish blackout, where the silence of halted trains echoed through the light. she walks — unaware, or perhaps unfazed — as if people still arrive even when nothing departs. the symmetry becomes a quiet metaphor: the coming and going, the presence and absence, mirrored in shadow and shape.
During a walk in the dunes along the Belgian coast, in Coxyde, at the top of one of them, I came across this man, motionless, calm in the silence of the wind. Was he praying? Was he breathing? We'll never know, but he was beautiful to look at... and to photograph.
✨ Full gallery here: European Street Chronicles – a photographic journey through public life, contrasts and quiet moments across the continent.
👉 View the full album: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720325179...
Lors d’une balada dans les dunes le long d la côte belge, à Coxyde, en haut d’une de celles-ci, je suis tombé sur cette homme, immobile, calme dans le silence du vent. Priait-il? Respirait-il? Nous n’en saurons jamais rien, mais il était beau à voir… et à photographier.
Walking around in the Taliarte, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands) area, with my old & light camera, looking for a new inspirational way to see the world. Lines, colours, contrasts…
the bridge stretches over the rushing pulse of the city, a thin line between movement and stillness. a man walks, head down, lost in thought. above him, a streetlamp bows as if in quiet resignation, a silent witness to countless crossings. the world rushes below, but up here, time slows, if only for a moment.
palma, highway bridge
L’attesa ha un ritmo tutto suo. Non disturba, non reclama attenzione. Si posa tra le pieghe del quotidiano con naturalezza, come se fosse sempre appartenuta a quel momento, a quel luogo. A volte la si percepisce nei piccoli silenzi condivisi, negli scambi brevi, nei gesti misurati. È lì, presente ma discreta, e sembra dire che anche l’abitudine, anche ciò che è ripetuto, può essere profondamente umano. In quella normalità, c’è qualcosa di perfetto.
「待つ」ということには、独特のリズムがある。騒がしくもなく、注目を集めることもない。ただ静かに日常のひだに溶け込み、まるで最初からそこにあったかのように自然だ。短いやりとりの中、控えめな仕草の中、共有された沈黙の中に、それは確かに感じられる。繰り返される日常の中に、人間らしさが静かに息づいている。完璧なまでに普通で、それゆえに美しい。
Waiting has a rhythm of its own. It doesn’t disturb or seek attention. It settles gently into the folds of the everyday, as if it had always belonged to that moment, that place. Sometimes it’s felt in quiet silences, brief exchanges, measured gestures. It is there — present but discreet — suggesting that even routine, even repetition, holds something deeply human. In that normality, there’s something perfect.
i watched the man pass by, quiet and fast, while the other sat still, as if waiting for time to begin again. light crawled across the floor like a memory unsure of its shape. the hallway didn’t end, it just kept repeating itself.
Walking around in the Playa del Hombre, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands) area, with my old & light camera, looking for a new inspirational way to see the world. Lines, colours, contrasts…
a moment caught between light and shadow, where time seems to slow down and the world turns into patterns. steps become whispers, and every line holds a secret waiting to be heard.
When modernity, the city and life are involved, anything can happen, even the most surprising images in the end.
✨ Full gallery here: European Street Chronicles – a photographic journey through public life, contrasts and quiet moments across the continent.
👉 View the full album: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720325179...
Quand la modernité, la ville et la vie sont de la partie, tout peut arrivé, même les images les plus surprenantes au final.
⭐️ Win a challenge on 04/01/25, thema "Urban scene" - www.flickr.com/groups/_friendly_challenges/discuss/721577...
🇬🇧 A group sitting in front of a closed row of shops.
No one talks, yet everything is being said — through postures, silences, shadows, and the absence of movement.
Down the sidewalk, a woman walks alone, away or back, no one knows.
Another day that leaves no trace, yet contains everything.
🔗 See the full series / Voir la série complète :
👉 Faces & Stares – Life Between Walls and Shadows: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720326884988
🇫🇷 Un groupe assis devant une rangée de boutiques fermées.
Personne ne parle, mais tout se dit — dans les postures, les silences, les ombres, et l’absence de mouvement.
Un peu plus loin, une femme passe, seule, vers l’avant ou vers l’arrière, nul ne sait.
Un jour de plus, sans marque visible, mais chargé de présence.
beneath the silent frame meant para los carteles, a man passes untouched by slogans, unstained by headlines. only the wall remembers the messages never pinned, the voices never raised—until now, in this quiet image.
🇬🇧 A man rests in the shade, reins in hand, under the gentle canopy of a tamarind tree.
The horse waits, motionless, between light and dust.
It’s not drama, it’s not a scene — just time folding in silence.
🔗 See the full series / Voir la série complète :
👉 Faces & Stares – Life Between Walls and Shadows: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720326884988
🇫🇷 Un homme se repose à l’ombre, les rênes en main, sous la voûte feutrée d’un tamarinier.
Le cheval attend, immobile, entre lumière et poussière.
Ce n’est pas une scène, ni un drame. Juste le temps qui s’installe, en silence.
a priest sits alone in the penumbra of basilica di san crisogono, his gaze caught between silence and something unseen above. light slips across his robe like a passing thought, revealing the wear of years and the weight of belief. within these centuries-old walls, shadows speak gently, and faith feels carved into stone.
a single hand, suspended in chiaroscuro, reaches into the soft breath of light. its gesture is neither command nor question—it simply is. the shadows behind it whisper of absence, and yet the air feels full, as if meaning once passed through and only the echo remains.
the city pauses in a quiet standoff with its own reflection. in the narrow corridor between rain and rhythm, a lone silhouette becomes both presence and memory – a fleeting witness suspended in symmetry.
steve mccurry, one of the worlds famous photographers, in silence, caught between light and shadow, points not at the world, but at the unseen tension between presence and distance. the frame holds its breath as if something unspoken hovers just beyond.
in the hush of a rainy afternoon, two umbrellas form a quiet cathedral. beneath one, a man gazes sideways—his white hair tracing the years, his silence louder than the crowd beyond. in this brief frame, time bends inward, and all that matters is the shelter we find in each other, spoken or not.
some stories don’t unfold—they simply pause.
a man resting on the stone steps of the torres de serranos in valencia, perfectly caught in a triangle of sunlight. behind him, the carved crown and angels seem to watch over his stillness.
he’s not performing, he’s just being.
and the light, almost reverently, seems to choose him.
this wasn’t staged. it was a fleeting moment of peace in a city always moving.
the red scarf, the shadow crown, the sun’s blade—everything in quiet alignment.
in the narrow moment between light and darkness, she walks like punctuation—an italic exclamation carved from stone and shadow. number 34 stays silent, watching time in stride.
It's pitch-dark just as day is breaking in this small German valley. Winter is not yet here, but everything seems to have already frozen over, except in this little shop where everything is alive.
✨ Full gallery here: European Street Chronicles – a photographic journey through public life, contrasts and quiet moments across the continent.
👉 View the full album: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720325179...
La nuit noire alors que le jour vient de tomber dans cette petite vallée allemande. L’hiver n’est pas encore là mais tout semble déjà se figer, sauf dans ce petit magasin où tout est en vie.
⭐️ WIN a challenge on 27/12/24, Thema "Night shop" - www.flickr.com/groups/_friendly_challenges/discuss/721577...
he didn’t look back. maybe there was nothing to see. maybe everything was waiting ahead, swallowed by the white. the hallway echoed his steps like a half-forgotten memory – long, metallic, empty. but the shadow on the wall whispered something else: that even when we walk away, a part of us stays behind, watching.
That old man leaning out of his window touched me. He seemed to be perched up there in an inverse role to the story, waiting for something or watching for someone. I thought of his Juliet, gone too soon or simply somewhere else. It's hard to explain, but our eyes meeting moved me.
✨ Full gallery here: European Street Chronicles – a photographic journey through public life, contrasts and quiet moments across the continent.
👉 View the full album: www.flickr.com/photos/201798544@N06/albums/72177720325179...
Ce vieil homme penché à sa fenêtre m’a touché. Il semblait perché là-haut dans un rôle inversé à l’histoire, attendant quelque chose ou guettant quelqu’un. J’ai pensé à sa Juliette trop tôt partie ou simplement ailleurs. Difficile à expliquer, mais nos regards se croisant il m’a ému.
⭐️ Win a challenge on 19/12/24, Thema "Last 10 upload" : www.flickr.com/groups/the-storybook-challenge-group/discu...
i stood behind them. camera ready. i clicked my tongue—once, then twice. the third time he turned around. i took the shot. the light didn’t flinch. the street held its breath.
Walking around in the Playa del Hombre, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands) area, with my old & light camera, looking for a new inspirational way to see the world. Lines, colours, contrasts…
i was walking past a laundromat on calle de hortaleza. saw this man and thought: if only he would turn around. and then, at some point, he did.
captured at la latina metro—his stance calm, his gaze unwavering. nothing posed, everything real. a portrait shaped by the streetlight and the years.
a tuk-tuk driver in silhouette drifts past the windows of the fado museum in lisbonâs alfama. inside, portraits of iconic voices gaze outward, suspended in quiet intimacy. itâs a fleeting moment where history and present share the same sunlit wall â both caught between shadow and memory.
cast against the wall in morning light, she walks — quiet, unseen, carrying presence in absence. the shape of a mother, a stroller, a gesture. nothing more. and everything.
behind a perfect grid, motion turns into suggestion—two black marks, a blur of presence, an object in tow. time stretches thin behind translucent glass as the moment becomes more about pattern than person. this is not someone arriving or leaving, but simply existing within a frame that doesn’t care.