Clandestine March

Reflections on black granite buildings turn day into night and clarity into riddles. This photograph bears the hallmark of these reflections and their contradictions. It was a sunny morning, there was no snow, shadows are present but it appears to be dark. As for what is happening, I've long since forgotten. And so it could be a clandestine march with something exceptional in that cart. Or, it can be what you might imagine. Who are those people who say that photography is inherently documentary?

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