The Silence of Cold Breath
The air in mid-January has a sharp, metallic edge that catches in the back of the throat, tasting faintly of iron and frozen pine needles. When I walk through a landscape held in the grip of a deep frost, the sound of my own boots crunching…
The Attraction of the Forbidden, by Stefan ThallnerThe Attraction of the Forbidden by Stefan Thallner
I love this picture because I'm always asking myself what the hell is behind the locked door. To strengthen the attraction of the forbidden I made it black and white. It's always the same whether you're young or old everybody likes the attraction…
The Salt of Morning
The air at dawn has a specific weight, a dampness that clings to the skin like a damp wool blanket. It smells of wet reeds and the metallic tang of deep, undisturbed water. I remember the feeling of a wooden oar against my palm—the rough,…