I do not have a summer man. And that often is reflected in my photography and urges me to leave the house with the camera around your neck for a rainy day and especially fog. I love the rain and the fog, they create before my eyes the photographer magical and melancholic: the mist, in particular, rounds off the sharp corners of the streets and buildings, blurs the contours of objects and people, and metaphorically, in my imagination dreamy, blunt the sharp blades that inevitably, over a lifetime, crack your heart.
