These are dark times.
Within five photographs in shades of grey, the colour yellow is but a word, and we are not poets
such as Boccacio.
WHAT THEN?

Between two questions, is there a clear answer? No sun, no colour, no yellow warmth.
I'd prefer five photographs of eroticism, but thats for another time.

A photographer, like a writer, is but a seismograph of the times.
He records the curve, captures and prints what he sees of the The Splendid Isolation.
But isolation never shines, it's art and freedom that truly shines.
The Sun remains yellow, to become red-orange again in time.

Will the dark circle be broken with a virus vaccine within a hundred days? Who knows...
So we must refuse to isolate ourselves lost in gloomy thoughts.
Let your thoughts roam free, expressed in pictures of your fellow man.