Provincia Malinconica

Light here doesn't just fall — it shapes. Walking these Mediterranean streets, I stopped seeing postcards and started seeing theatre: sunlit stone against a black doorway, a single figure crossing into shadow, an alley holding its breath before the next window of light.

I photograph the contrast, not the place. Warmth against cold. Illumination against darkness. The golden hour becomes a stage, and every narrow passage a scene waiting to be lit. Some frames are almost entirely shadow — and that emptiness is the point. What stays hidden says as much as what's shown.

These are old towns that have learned to keep their own secrets. Each frame is a small decision: how much to reveal, how much to let the dark carry.