A Roll of Light
The road followed the curve of the Mediterranean—slow, sun-warmed, breathing salt and pine. The air hummed softly through the open window. Time moved differently here, like a gentle tide.
The Nikon FM3A rested on the seat beside me, quiet and patient. Each frame felt like a pause, a way to listen to the world instead of trying to capture it. Film doesn’t rush—it waits, asks you to trust what you’ve seen.
There was no plan, only light. Small villages, sea on one side, mountains on the other. The rhythm of laughter, the taste of peaches, the sound of shutters and waves. Somewhere between the frames, I stopped looking for photographs and started noticing moments.
At night, lanterns flickered against the water. The Nikon lay on the table, salt still on its metal. The roll inside was full of stillness—sunlight, wind, and breath—not perfect but alive.
When the negatives dried weeks later, they felt less like images and more like reminders: you were there, and that was enough.
Nikon FM3A - Voitlander 40mm f2 SLII - Ilford Otho Plus 80
