Photographer pharmacist

Sometimes I Just Watch – The camera rests in my bag today. Not because there’s nothing to see, but because sometimes my eyes want to discover the world without filters. No pressure, no expectations – just the quiet whisper of the present moment. To watch is to let things come to me on their own. There’s no need to stop or capture; it’s enough if the sight passes through me like a summer breeze that only touches, never holds. The best pictures are those born in my mind while I sit or walk and let the world quietly tell its story around me. ~ Szingy photographer pharmacist

When I Just Look – The camera rests today. Not because there’s nothing to see, but because sometimes my eyes want to explore the world without filters. No need to stop or capture, just the soft murmur of the moment. To look means to let things reach me naturally. There’s no need to freeze or frame; it’s enough if the vision passes through me like a summer breeze, touching but never grasping. The best images are those born in my mind as I sit or wander, letting the world silently share its tales. ~ Szingy photographer pharmacist 

The Image That Isn’t

Not every photograph is taken.
Not every moment allows itself to be caught.
Some scenes instinctively shy away when they sense the camera’s intent – as if reality itself knows our human greed and occasionally says no to being archived.

Sometimes, I simply watch. Quietly, from the outside.
The light shifting across a wall.
An old woman’s gentle bun.
A man who doesn’t hurry, because there’s nowhere he needs to be.
A girl who forgets, just for a second, that someone might be watching.
The silence – not just an absence of sound, but a space filled with presence.

The camera rests on my shoulder, unmoved.
I don’t know if it’s laziness, reverence, or just a kind of wisdom – a knowing that some things are better kept exactly as they are: unfiltered, unframed, unclaimed.

These pictures never get posted.
They cannot be liked, commented on, or digitally stored.
They live elsewhere.
They are inner images, developed not with chemicals, but with time.
They come back to me during quiet evenings – a gesture, a luminous glance, a mood I once stood inside of.

I have a private archive for them.
Invisible, but precise.
The photo I never took in the café, when a man’s hand lingered just a second longer on the table.
The tram ride – an elderly woman caressing her coat sleeve, as if someone’s hand still rested there.
A doorway we never entered, but I always imagined how it might feel.

Imagined photographs are often the most precious because they cannot be re-seen.
Only remembered.
And remembering – when it’s honest – is closer to art than most sharp images will ever be.

Sometimes the eye photographs.
Sometimes the heart.
And sometimes, silence becomes the most accurate exposure. ~ Szingy photographer pharmacist

Imagined Photographs and Developed Sentences (Words instead of pictures). Their names are deceptively photographic, yet these are utterances without images.
They are impressions where the visual becomes internal, and the act of capturing occurs not through a lens, but through sentences. ~ Szingy photographer pharmacist

Life Once Happened Here

Developed Sentences – The dust of the street slowly trickles under the footprints of time.
Only a creaky bicycle remains as memory, along with the faint shadow cast by the sun on an old brick wall.
No people – only silence speaks, telling stories of a time when life stirred here, laughter, breaths – now only the weight of the past remains, gently caressing the stones.
~ Photographer Pharmacist (Imagined Photographs)

Where Time Stands Still

Developed Sentences – Sunlight filters through an old window, drawing stripes on the floor.
Dust dances in these beams while the walls remain silent.
Everything has its place – the place where time stops so we may grow quiet for a few moments.
~ Photographer Pharmacist (Imagined Photographs)

A Window

A window, half-open.
The curtain shifts slightly – the air just peeks inside.
Someone lives in there.
I can’t see them, only sense them. Maybe there's the smell of coffee. Maybe someone is listening to music. Maybe they are stepping toward the window, but haven't appeared yet.
This image is not about what’s seen, but about what could be.
What might happen.
And sometimes, that’s more important than what does.
~ Photographer Pharmacist (Imagined Photographs)

A Photograph of Nothing

A piece of sidewalk.
Two cracks.
A leaf – still green, but already dry.
The viewer asks: what’s special about this?
The photographer says: everything.
~ Photographer Pharmacist (Imagined Photographs)

Silence

I didn’t take a photo.
I just watched.
The girl left, the cloud vanished, the coffee cooled.
But somehow, everything stayed.
As a picture in my mind.
And perhaps that is the real photograph.
~ Photographer Pharmacist (Imagined Photographs)