I know this place in Paphos, Cyprus. And I realise how much I do not know it. I have spent there a couple of hours, the author is spending half his life.
That is why he knows how to metamorphose a temporal slice to an irresolute secret. The doors are not closures anymore. They are now gates to a parallel universe. And the day-trippers are now patsy marionettes, half shadow half human, partly standing and partly falling. The duality of the male figure and the ambiguity of the female one, are the proof that the artistic facet of photography emerges only when it undermines its "virtue" of being a faithful witness.
Some called it the decisive moment, others the reality suspending moment; it is the instant when photographing the real, loses its significance (or its recording feature) and becomes a secluded narration.
The author insightfully uses the B&W version where by subtraction, he has the main subjects and the backlit elements fused in a new hypostasis. Any colour code would have ruined the striped abstraction.
The tilted frame is not a manneristic counterfeit. It breaths the photographer's restlessness to press the shutter before everything falls back into normal, before the photography fairy left the scene.
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