A minute ago you were talking, laughing.
The elevator doors closed, and suddenly it went quiet.

A walk through the night city. A sudden downpour — and we take shelter under the awning of a summer diner. On one side — the heat of the kitchen and an appetizing aroma, on the other — the coolness of the downpour that has poured over the city. Cozy amid the storm.

A May evening in the city center.

The sky is densely overcast with a thick veil of clouds. The intensifying rain just made me lazily reach into my backpack for an umbrella, then pull it from its case and open the large black dome above me.

Headlights reflect in the wet asphalt. It’s a beautiful and mysterious moment — on the edge of day and night, on the edge of water and the fire of the nighttime city.

Came across a falling lilac bush in the city center. I’m always amazed by how adaptable plants are. Trees growing even on rooftops — or this lilac bush, on the verge of collapsing, yet still holding on and delighting us with its spring attire.

You walk down a noisy street. Everything is predictable — you know what you’ll see, you know how this evening will end. It feels safe; you’ve walked this path a thousand times before.

But then you pass an archway that leads into the darkness. What awaits you there?

Earlier this evening — a Moment That Illuminated the Garden .

See also 

• Film “17:01 ”

It’s cloudy, as if it’s about to rain. I’m hurrying home to grab a spare battery for my camera, but suddenly I freeze: in the overcast garden, everything around is lit by a calm, beautiful young spring tree. Despite being in a rush, I stop, take out my camera, and snap a few shots. I’m eager to capture this magical moment. A moment of birth.

A few hours later — The moment I turned into the dark .