Michele Brunetti

Last year, I lived in Rome and spent a lot of time at the MAXXI museum. While the museum is famous for its big, impressive architecture and modern art, what really caught my attention were the small, everyday moments happening around me. I’ve never been interested in grand scenes or famous people. Instead, I look at the little, often unnoticed moments that felt like watching a quiet play unfold. Balzac called it “la comédie humaine” or the human comedy. That’s how I see my Walking. I’m interested in the simple, daily gestures that show the beauty of our lives. You won’t find celebrities or dramatic events here. Just regular people, like you and me, living their lives. Walking through the halls of MAXXI, I used my camera to catch these humble moments. A person deep in thought in front of a painting, a smile shared between strangers, somebody try to fit in an art piece —these are the scenes that fascinate me. They are small, everyday actions that, to me, are truly beautiful. I know these moments might not be exciting for everyone. They don’t grab headlines or demand attention. But I believe they are important. They show us who

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