Recently I feel I found the place where photography means the most pleasure: on streets.

This encounter wasn’t deliberate and seems pretty weird as I always believed nature will be the area where I will be eager to scurry off after the long working hours/days and… now it seems I can only leave the city to enter another one.
Road signs, street lights, phone boxes, bins, shabby handles, rusty doors, windows, tags, graffities and hydrants.. I have been astonished myself how much I’m crazy about fire hydrants! Their diversity amuse me very much and you never know, but wonder how the next hydrant will look like you bump into. I’ve started to be really fascinated about this whole street feeling and the phenomenon how these accessories are scattered around us, the fact that somebody positioned them to their places and they’re just there ever since, only weather, dust or some vandal people are to form their surface. That’s the way they slowly melt and mellow unobservedly in their, or better to say our surroundings. People are passing by them, never seem to notice any, though their shape or colour could be an aesthetic joy sometimes.

This whole case reminds me of streets would be our second home, as we step out from the flat and carefully close the door, world doesn’t cease to exist, home doesn’t cease to exist, furniture doesn’t cease to exit, but to transform into something else.