Trees in my city. A photographic dialogue.

I am someone with a phone and a lot of visual restlessness. I want to learn.
While that happens, and I get a decent camera, I take pictures of things that tell me something. I edit.
I look at what others are doing.
I envy them for the good pictures they take and try not to get paralyzed.
What I do may not have value as a photograph, but I know they have expressive value, and I like to share.
This time I have made a small sample of the presence of the trees, the light and the river in my city.

I thank the passers-by for stopping by.

The young ceiba looks at the ruined facade. They talk about eternity.

My city is split in two by a river. We go from one side to the other. The great ceiba tree watches over us.

They accompany each other quietly. In this business there are no coins, only the understanding that friendship gives.

The bridge that sinks its piles into the river supports the hustle and bustle. The trees only caress the light.

Passers-by go from one side to the other, pieces in an endless mechanism. Cedars slowly prepare to bloom.