The projector hums. You sit in the dark, popcorn soggy, as the story washes over you. The hero stumbles, the villain laughs, and your chest skips in time with the screen.
You’re meant to analyse, judge—but you can’t. Something raw clings to you. When the credits roll, you linger, pretending to check your phone, just to hold onto that fleeting sense of being quietly, achingly alive.
Visual Diaries from Milan’s Smoking Area
I got my first DSLR camera in the Tumblr era of the 2010s (initially to take emo pictures of myself in the bathroom of my family home), but this inclination seems to have paid off, as I’ve now been creating visuals professionally for the past ten years. The way I explore creative production has gradually…
I LOVE, DEATH ROBOTS YOU
Do you seek something that you have been yearning for or received due to a happy coincidence?
Was it a love that seizes you and takes hold, making it feel as if it is branded on your skin, muscles, and bones, leaving scars of betrayal or fondness?
