A few hours ago, I arrived in Rome. It’s my first time in the eternal city, and as with all firsts, there’s a kind of electric fuzziness in the air. Everything feels both vivid and dreamlike. I was welcomed into the city with a warm, animated conversation with my taxi driver, who spoke with his hands and heart, and made me feel like I had stepped into something familiar, even though it was entirely new.
I usually give myself time before I photograph a city—time to feel it, to let its rhythm merge with my own. But tonight, I couldn’t resist. The city was calling me, camera in hand. I stepped out into the night, wandered the Roman streets, and watched light reflect off puddles left behind by a passing rain. I watched a child on a tram, her face softly lit by the glow of the neon lights, lost in a world of her own. Everything was in motion—trams, people, thoughts, impressions. Blurred, fleeting, beautiful.
It’s still all a bit hazy—my thoughts, the images, the impressions. But there’s a knowing, deep inside, that I’m exactly where I need to be. Rome feels rich with meaning and promise, like a city that is waiting to reveal something just beneath its surface. And maybe, if I keep walking, and keep watching, the answers will begin to show.
This is only the beginning.