The Light of the Night

I don't live in a fancy, old part of the town, but I'm okay with that. One can find beauty anywhere, it's not even necessary to look very hard. However, it is necessary to see. That's a skill, too.

I wonder what it might be like to live in a huge city, in a real concrete jungle... I'm used to having the colour green around me. Well... there are parks in big cities, too. And in the end there always is the green traffic light!

Memories

Old memories, old photos...

Like the snowflakes that the spring warmth melts, but which come back every November in shapes and sizes different from before, but just as recognizable and precious. Almost unchanged, just adapted to who you have become during the past sunny months.

And so you miss the times when you could ride a giraffe whenever you want to. Maybe it's my approaching 18th birthday that makes me turn back for a moment and stare in amazement at things I thought I didn't have.

...and the present is slipping into the past too. Although the time is just like Tiziano Terzani wrote: a river, where the past, the present and the future coexist simultaneously.

Night in Turku

Autumn Sun

Soft morning colours are the most beautiful. I never get tired of photographing the sky. No one seems to get. And I know why. That's all because we see ourselves in the sky, it is very similar to humans in the way it changes moods, the way it looks different every single day.

Where I live

On one of the warm days of the late spring, those days when the sky is like a blue balloon blown to its fullest, I headed to the centre with my more than modest Canon digital camera. I tried to act all professional, but my self-importance was instantly blown up as I stepped off the bus right into a crowd of German tourists. No matter how I tried to work myself into the 'professional mood', feeling the locals' despising gazes on me I took the photos swiftly and half-secretly, as if it was illegal, and then hurried to hide inside the library nearby.

On the photo - Turku Cathedral