There's a magical site in my neighborhood, an old market that was kept in it's original form. One rainy day I was walking with my camera and decided to dive in this crazy scenery. The outcome is this project, that I called Market 1947. It's a journey into a surreal land, populated by weird and mysterious creatures.

When suddenly a door opens in front of me. Concrete starts crumbling under my feet, over the tiredness of the past decades.

Down there it's not easy to know if the space you're looking at is a piece of sky.

Looking up you see grey turning into green, resembling leaves.

Yellow of an amber stuck in a forgotten time.

No one lives there except pigeons. They're not afraid, they have wings. A powerful tool when it's hard to recognize the sky.

Many small temples stand on the desertic streets, each one different from the other, each one with its believers and its empty promises.

Here you see a lone wanderer lost in the labyrinth of time.

He walks looking for answers, or maybe he's tired and he just wants to rest.

Nobody knows it and noboby will, since the wanderer disappears behind a dark corner.

It always ends like that, withouth a specific reason. The only goal is to keep looking, to be surprised and to stare with your mouth wide open, with a funny expression on your face but full of life.

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