Padlocks strike back.

After New York City, somewhere in Italy…


In Italy, right in the middle of nowhere there was this dead, desert and futuristic train station. Nothing miles around, only one lady, chewing gum and ignoring the outrageous noisy works stopping me from understanding a single word she was saying.

It felt like the Twilight Zone.


My beautiful black cat.



Bridges (of London).

Of Yellows and Greens…

Bohemian Rhapsody.

A man and a cello. Portobello Road.

London Eye dans tous ses ├ętats.