The vision

Every city hides a secret map, drawn in passing glances, in bodies that brush and part, in fragile moments gone before they can be named.

 

This is the intimate country I wander.

 

Through the pulsing veins of Kyiv, beneath the electric glow of Hong Kong, in the hushed stillness of Japan's stations, I drift away from the crowd, choosing mystery over the obvious.

 

My photographs are not portraits of places. They are attempts to hold a presence, a passing emotion that seems to look back at us, defiant, in the instant before it fades.

Souls of the City is not a catalogue of streets. It is a quiet, poetic pursuit of whatever, in the roar of the city, refuses to disappear.