Through glass and railings — May 2025.
I mostly looked at Budapest sideways. Between the bars of a bridge, behind the window of a tram pulling away, in a reflection that won't hold still. The Parliament shows up on every corner: gold, blurred, cut by a railing. But it isn't the subject. The subject is whatever gets between it and me: the glass, the metal, the movement. The city when you don't frame it properly.
