Prague between the stops

Prague between the stops

our neighborhood

You can walk through the city with a plan. Photograph the famous places, walk recommended routes, check off the views, cafes, and architecture. But most of the time happens in between. Between tram stops, between the park and the street, between the way home and a short detour. On film, this type of walk is recorded differently. Every press of the shutter costs something, so you stop hunting moments and start waiting. For light, for an empty street, for a tree that divides the facade into light and shadow for a few minutes.

In the end, I found out that I almost don't photograph the city as a whole. Rather, individual sections of the journey. Corners of houses, passageways, wide sidewalks, parked cars, or parks where for a moment you hear more birds than traffic.

In some shots, nothing happens at all. And that's precisely why I enjoy them. They remind me that most of life is not made up of exceptional moments, but ordinary afternoons when the sun falls on a brick wall or a tram passes behind trees.

Moreover, film has a peculiar ability to unify these moments. Bright noon and evening dusk have a similar softness; colors are not exaggerated, and you feel like you remember the place rather than look at it.

When I looked at the scanned negatives at home, I realized that I hadn't really photographed the city. I photographed the journey. Without a goal, without haste, and without the need for something extraordinary to happen on every corner.

Maybe that's why I keep coming back to those photos. They don't remind me of what I saw. They remind me of what it was like to be there.

Jirka, Tokyo Tools ©