I live on the outskirts of a large, crowded city. I like where I live, there's still a bit of the old quiet of the city. We came here more than twenty years ago when we decided (in fact we were somehow forced) to leave the central area which was showing timid signs of changing, both in terms of buildings and car congestion. It was a timely move, it was an uncharacteristically uncharacteristic move for me because I generally make bad decisions. Now the suburbs where I live have become an expensive place and it is very hard to buy building land or a house or an apartment.
When we moved there was already a trend of people moving out of the city center to the green edges of the city and in the neighborhood where we bought the house there were already about 10% of new residents coming in. Now I think there are at most 10% of the old residents of the neighborhood who have not yet sold their house or garden. Everything has changed, most of the houses are new, small blocks of 2-3 floors have appeared and very few old houses, built at the beginning of the last century are left.
The neighborhood is very quiet, with few people on the streets, children don't use to stay outside on the street to play so it is very pleasant for walking. Many times on my walks I am surprised to hear a sounder in the sky and see a big shadow on the sidewalk moving fast. Looking up into the sky I discovered a large flock of pigeons flying in circles above the houses.
The movement of the flock is impressive. So well-coordinated, like a squadron of fighter planes! I find it hard to understand how they keep formation and distance between them.
I see these pigeons almost every day in their flight which seems like training or just an attempt to remember their purpose. Because I think these are special pigeons, racing pigeons.
I tried to see where they retreat to at the end of the flight, to see where their home is. I found the place, a small old house almost crushed by the blocks that caught it in the middle. The pigeon coop in the middle of a small courtyard. The yard, like the house, looks abandoned and unkempt, with a lot of useless and broken items piled up there. These are all signs that there live some old people, from the old inhabitants of this neighborhood. People who haven't adjusted to the changes and modernization of society. These people, mostly alone, turn their affection to small animals, dogs, cats, chickens, and... pigeons.
The pigeons are still flying around like crazy as if they were a broken and out-of-control carousel. I stand in the middle of the street and my head and hands spin so I can keep my eyes and camera on these beautiful and free (when flying) birds. I shoot through the electric wires, they draw some geometric lines and shapes in the sky.
In the old days, there was a tradition of growing pigeons for racing. In the nearby market, there was a pigeon club where members gathered and went to the country and abroad for races. They would take the pigeons by car or train hundreds of kilometers away and there they would release them and wait until they returned home. Many returned home, became national or international champions, gained value, and were sold for a lot of money. I will never understand how these pigeons managed to fly for days and return home to their coop!
When I took these photos I thought they were better to be black and white. Primarily that these pigeons represent a time and custom past and forgotten, just as a torn and crumpled photograph sometimes lies in some forgotten box.
Then, the abandonment of color gives the photographs a certain drama, the drama that I saw and tried to pass on. The tumultuous, almost suicidal flight of these birds I see only monochrome, as well as their future.