I don’t normally go out when a storm hits, but on that day the storm is receding and I thought I’d check out the shore.

I don’t normally go out when a storm hits, but on that day the storm is receding and I thought I’d check out the shore.
It doesn’t take much to scare pigeons. Even if it gets in the way of their lunch.
I took this photo a long time ago. I was attracted by the light on the ceiling and the giant window.
I see photography not just as the activity of producing images/art/a record, but also as a bridge between our internal landscape and the external world we selectively engage with. While we cannot directly photograph thoughts or emotions (yet), our choices in subject matter, composition, and timing reveal the invisible threads of our inner narrative.
The recursive aspect of the scene attracted me: taking the photo of a couple looking at a photo showing someone taking the photo of a group of people in front of another group having their photo taken.
I like the perspective of the wide angle lens. It stretches the boat that os already quite long. Traditionally, these boats transport coal, gravel, and stones up and down the river.
I find sometimes weird what people abandon in the street. How can you abandon your shoes? Do you go home bare feet?
The Notre Dame in the background is pre-fire. The book sellers (“bouquinistes”) traditionally sell old second hand books and art.
In today’s world, we’re constantly bombarded with photography. The perfectly curated, Instagram-ready images that tell a story in a single frame. But one of the most important things I’ve realized in the last few years is just how significant it is to take photos of the people around you. Not the posed, carefully staged portraits we think of as “important” pictures, but the candid, everyday snapshots that capture the essence of who these people really are.
The last time I was there, the boat had gone. I presume the parking spots are at a premium and there is fierce competition.