Every street has its master.

One day in the park, I came across a squirrel that was clearly up to something that had very little to do with being a squirrel.

On the forest trails of Madeira, roots don’t just break through the surface — they become the path itself.

Vilaflor sits more than a kilometre above the sea — high enough that, some days, it simply vanishes into the clouds.

This was one of the first fogs I ever captured. Perhaps even the very first.

Far, far beyond the Urals, in a small village lost somewhere among the fields, stands a monument that almost nothing is known about.

Summer in the village comes with its own set of responsibilities.

Charlie sits on the windowsill.

Goats by the sea look slightly out of place.

Abandoned quarries have a life of their own.

In summer, deep in the endless forests of the Urals, you can sometimes stumble upon the most unexpected landscapes.

Kaş feels different from most Mediterranean resorts.

Sometimes a place looks nothing like you'd expect.

The northern coast of Madeira faces the ocean with no protection.

We spend surprisingly little time where we truly want to be.

One day, while walking along the shore of a lake, I noticed this elegant bird.

There was a time when nearly every weekend found me exploring the places where I grew up.

This is how I'll always remember my first encounter with Vikos Gorge.

What could be better than sitting in the shade of a big tree on the hottest part of the day?

The buildings tell you where you are. The people tell you what the place is.