Michele Brunetti

Sometimes, you just need to stand still. In a world obsessed with movement and action, the simple act of staying in one place can reveal something truly fascinating. It’s not even about what’s out there, but rather, the moment you capture transforms into fluid thoughts and elusive images. These images, fleeting and seemingly meaningless, become interesting precisely because they don’t signify anything. They are a testament to the power of stillness, inviting us to see beyond the obvious and embrace the enigmatic beauty of the mundane. In the realm of photography, this practice is more than a technique—it’s a philosophy. When we stop and let the world move around us, we give ourselves the chance to capture something extraordinary in the ordinary. This stillness allows us to notice the subtle shifts in light, the unexpected compositions, and the hidden narratives that often go unnoticed in the rush of life. So, next time you find yourself searching for inspiration, try standing still. Let your surroundings come alive in their own time. You’ll be surprised at what you discover through the lens of patience and quiet observation.

The city lights flicker insistently and annoyingly in the night, bodies and cars dissolving in the uncertain human condition that bares its teeth in the darkness. The night sky reverberates with electricity, and violet clouds form the roof of the industrial age. Walking through the streets of Shanghai, every corner holds a story, fragments of time and life. The walls of buildings, silent witnesses, whisper secrets to those who know how to listen. It is here, amidst the asphalt, that the secrets of everyday life reveal themselves in silent confidence. I see these fragments; they attract me like an eagle spotting a rabbit from a hundred meters away. I see them, and the camera captures them. It freezes the fragments, but the camera doesn’t capture the stories.  The clamor of Shanghai breaks my eardrums, ringing with the fatigue of a long workday—a chaotic rhythm, people shouting, some with anger and others with happiness. This city never sleeps; it’s a cliché, but it’s true. It is in this interplay of light and shadow that I stop to observe, the camera held tightly in my hands. I snap a photo, freezing an instant. But what truly remains of that moment? A fleeting

Riding the commuter train, it’s a heavy burden that weighs not just on the body, but on the spirit, as we navigate through a sea of faces lost in the rhythm of routine, each one carrying their own silent stories and unspoken struggles. We find ourselves crammed into overcrowded public transport, where personal space becomes a luxury, and the hum of conversations blends into an indistinguishable symphony of urban life, a cacophony of shared existence in motion. Caught in the perpetual motion of commuting, lost in the shuffle of the city’s heartbeat, we become mere passengers in our own lives, drifting through the monotony of routine. Lost in their thoughts to avoid thinking, commuters seek refuge in the sanctuary of distraction, finding solace in the fleeting moments of detachment from reality, as the world rushes by in a blur of motion and noise. In the liminal space between destinations, where seconds stretch into eternity and minutes dissolve into insignificance, we dwell in the paradox of commuter existence. It’s an incomprehensible time, a non-time, where the boundaries between beginnings and ends blur into a continuous loop of transient experiences. Yet, it exists, it has a purpose, what to make of it?