Monemvasia, Greece
I took this shot not for what it shows, but for what it separates.
The tiled roof—a man-made rhythm, heavy, cracked, deliberate—stands between the viewer and the vastness of the sea. It divides permanence from impermanence. Weight from drift. History from the horizon.
The tiled roof—a man-made rhythm, heavy, cracked, deliberate—stands between the viewer and the vastness of the sea. It divides permanence from impermanence. Weight from drift. History from the horizon.
What drew me in was the quiet tension between the two: the rooted geometry of the roof and the infinite sprawl of water beyond it. One repeats. One dissolves. One was built to endure. The other was never meant to stay.
This frame isn’t about landscape or architecture.
It’s about that thin, unspoken line between what holds you down and what lets you go.
It’s about that thin, unspoken line between what holds you down and what lets you go.
