Shadows
Light defines form, but shadow gives it meaning. In motion, both are inseparable — shifting, merging, erasing each other within fractions of a second. Through the car window, shadows become alive: they stretch across asphalt, climb facades, cut through reflections.
Shadows reveal the invisible geometry of space. They draw temporary maps of time, weather, and direction. What remains hidden in direct light emerges in their passing outlines — soft, uncertain, often more truthful than what is seen.
In the Rear Seat Diaries, shadows act as silent narrators. They tell of transitions: from day to night, from clarity to obscurity. These images are not about darkness, but about presence without visibility — the quiet structures that exist between seeing and knowing.