Crossroads -where paths quietly meet
Before a story is told, before a place is understood, there is a moment — often brief, often unspectacular — where paths cross.
A glance. A gesture. A quiet presence shared.
This section is about those moments: unplanned encounters, fleeting exchanges, silent recognitions.
Photographs that do not seek to define, but to witness.
That honor the dignity of others — not by explaining them, but by meeting them where they are.
In travel, in photography, and in life, the first step is always to meet people.
Not to capture, not to interpret — but to arrive in their presence, with openness and respect.
These are the crossroads I remember most.
Two boys in the forest near Fort Portal, Uganda. A quiet moment suspended in time — their expressions calm,
thoughtful.
The wooden planks lead into the dense green of the forest — a path uncertain, much like the future that awaits
them.
What are their hopes, their chances, their dreams?
Crossroads in the Dust.
Far north Cameroon, 1990. A woman carries firewood along a sandy road — a traditional act of movement, of necessity, of
continuity.
Our paths crossed only for a moment. Hers stretched on toward home, mine further into the to continue my
trip.
Sometimes, the most telling stories are carried on the head and written in dust.
The Unicorn of Central Park
Near Bow Bridge, New York City.
Anonymous, whimsical, unforgettable. A unicorn in heels, playing accordion in the heart of Manhattan — reminding passersby
that not everything in life needs to make sense to be meaningful.
Sometimes, the most human encounters wear a mask.
In the highlands of Kabale in Uganda, near the edge of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, I met this woman with her newborn — a moment of quiet strength in a remote place where paths cross unexpectedly. Though we shared no language, her presence conveyed dignity and calm. With gentle agreement, she allowed this portrait — a fleeting but human encounter, grounded in mutual respect.
In His Own Frame
San Cristóbal de La Laguna, Tenerife.
A young traveler absorbed in his phone — unaware that he stood perfectly framed by a weathered door, his trousers echoing
its muted tones, his stillness contrasted by the warmth of the wall.
Sometimes the world composes the scene, even when we don’t notice it.
