fujifilm 35mm
ilha do baleal, peniche, portugal july 2021


In the alchemy of development, the chemicals trembled—etching streaks of light across the frame. These fractures, half-accidental, half-destined, became vessels for longing: for summers half-remembered, for days when even the thickest fog could not smother the warmth of our insistence.

The emulsion faltered, and in its lapse, it gave us this—not flaws, but echoes. A film grain humming with the static of lost time, where every aberration is a door left ajar, a light left on in some distant July room.



kodak portra 400 35mm film
barreiro, portugal, december 2021


escombros - debris

There is a myth in Barreiro—that the land will one day sink. The earth here is wounded, its soil threaded with unseen toxins, as if the ground itself remembers the weight of industry’s touch.

At noon, during lunch hours, I walked among the ruins. Hollow factories, their skeletons picked clean by time. Walls crumbled into suggestion. I wondered: What echoes linger in these broken stones? This is not a lament, but a reckoning. A place where the past is not gone, but suspended—caught between collapse and the stubborn refusal to vanish.

Is there a future for such spaces? Or do they remain like ghosts, neither here nor gone, just slowly dissolving into the myth of themselves?