Anafi

I don’t chase beauty. I wait for things that don’t ask to be seen.

This image was taken in the brutal stillness of a Greek afternoon, where even the air feels ancient. I came across this structure—just a wall, weathered and crumbling, plastered by hand, scarred by salt and sun. Behind it, a white cube stood like a memory half-erased. No context. No noise. Just form, shadow, and silence.

To most, it would be nothing. But to me, it was a portrait—of resilience, erosion, and the quiet violence of time.

I shot this frame not as documentation, but as devotion. A study in dignity. A confrontation with stillness.
Because sometimes a structure doesn’t just stand.
It endures.

And in that endurance, stripped of everything decorative or loud, there is a kind of sacredness. Not religious. Not nostalgic. But existential.
A reminder that even the most forgotten corners of the world still hold their ground. Still catch the light. Still whisper back when no one is listening.