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Category: London

I walked through Strada Mercanti (Merchants Street) then down toward Strada San Paolo (St Pauls’ Street) and stopped there to have a look at the balconies that so dominantly govern the upper views of the streets.  Suddenly, thoughts from my past when I was still a child, I used to wonder who had ever built such a great city, so strong, so invincible.  Today I see the crumbling walls, the buildings mostly uninhabited, the doors tattered by time.

All 20 photographs focus on the capital city of Valletta, that rests dominant on Mt Schiberras.  I shot most of the images during night time when shadows and the absence of natural light brings out the real character of the city that most people ignore.

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One memory that I recall very well is the view of the old market from St Paul’s Street.  As a child I used to look up and see those magnificent balconies, the market structure, the elaborate masonry that adorns every corner.  Those big wooden doors aged and tattered by the elements, but at the same time still holding strong, hiding secrets between walls that have been there for centuries.

My aim in this exhibition is to bring out those moments when Valletta is calm and quiet, so that one can hear her voice, aged but still dominant and convincing. A city so very well fortified that even today one can still feel protected within her walls.

I visit the capital city of Valletta several times and never return empty handed, there is always that spot I have not looked into, and somehow it feels like a relationship that slowly evolves and matures by time only to get better and better.

I have chosen to work in black and white because it gives more impact to the subject. I feel that such architecture, should not be lost within color but should speak for itself through shadows and the balance between light and darkness.

These are not just photos of a city they are snapshots of history, of a culture, a presence that has left permanent impact on today’s society.

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In here like an ant I rest, until the next stop, meters below the ground, I travel looking at them who in turn look back to me. No one to talk to, no one to smile to. An individualistic life, a being, a breeding host, traveling together and apart, at the same time.

Alligned London Buses on red lights.

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There is no one to wave to, and as I am slowly lifted to the second level towards passport control I ask myself if there is really anything to check, I pass through like an ant through Porte des bombes. The stillness in the area is unbelievable, the fluorescent tube just on top of me flashes through its intermittent behavior as if trying to survive its last moments of shine, the plants green but lifeless. The British white haired couples settled in an un-organized method on the seats remaining in the departures lounge, myself in an un-obstructed angle, anxious but calm, waiting and observing.

A bench To rest on when needed

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