For centuries, I run.
I hid behind the tall grass,
merged with the logs,
captured the skins of wild beasts...
Shelter...nowhere to be found.
She would always catch up to whisper in my ear the nothingness I was.
A pathetic little excuse for a human body...a waste.
And I would believe her.
I would crawl under the shadows and find consolation on the arms of someone.
Just to ease the pain of her grasping truth.
But somehow I've become deaf.
I can't hear her pitchy and cruel voice no more.
I walk alone, miles and miles away, and she's never there.
She's finally gone.
I can finally be happy by myself.
A fotografia de Nishe é o meu género favorito...Intimista, romântico, cravejado de emoções...
Cada imagem embrenha-nos no mundo secreto da alma fotografada, e nós caímos, caímos...
procurando respostas, qual Alice dos tempos modernos.
Adorava ter este talento.
You're looking at the wonderful photography work of Nishe, master on portraying human feelings...
I sense a lot of solitude mixed with something I can't name.
I love his work, it's very intimidate, romantic and frugal! Do you like it too?