When the telephone was a symbol of intrigue, and fur and lace meant luxury. The cord wrapped around her fingers like a promise never spoken. The receiver swayed slightly—as if the conversation had ended or hadn’t yet begun. Silence filled the line, but she knew someone was waiting. Sometimes, tension grew not from words but their absence, an unheard sigh, an invisible hesitation. She didn’t look in the mirror, yet it reflected her—the silhouette, the gestures, the faint smile. Fur draped over her shoulders like a memory of warmth, lace clinging to her skin like an unspoken secret.
Can you inherit your passion for photography? If so, I took mine from my dad. I grew up surrounded by darkrooms, cameras, and film rolls. Today, photography is my greatest hobby and a way of life. Creating pictures and keeping them in the frame, catching the passing time and the possibility of implementing my own ideas gives me great joy and satisfaction.