Yesterday’s shot wasn’t planned. It wasn’t staged. It wasn’t even “safe,” depending on who you ask.
I took this photograph on my way to the international airport in Lagos yesterday. I was accompanying my aunt who was traveling to Italy, and as we approached the airport road, something about the scene caught my attention. The wide stretch of road. The dusty shoulders. The streetlights standing tall under a soft blue sky. And in the distance, the airport building itself - bold, structured, evolving.
There’s something about airports that always feels emotional. They are spaces of movement where people leave, arrive, reunite, and start new chapters. But yesterday, what struck me wasn’t just the emotion of departure. It was the physical transformation of the space itself.
From afar, the control tower stood tall and watchful, like a silent guardian of journeys. Construction cranes framed the skyline, almost like symbols of growth and transition. The building looked modern, still expanding, still becoming. It felt like a metaphor for Lagos itself, always under construction, always stretching forward.
As we drove closer, I kept observing the lines, the long curve of the road, the repeating poles of the streetlights, the layered structure of the airport facade. As a photography lover, those leading lines are irresistible. They guide the eye naturally toward the focal point. They tell a story without saying a word.
So I did what any curious creative would do.
I took the shot.
Actually, I took several shots.
The wide angle. The closer frame. The road perspective. The architectural detail.
But here’s the interesting part, while I was taking the photos, I was told to keep my phone down. I was warned that military officers around the area might question me, collect my phone, and even demand some “fees” before returning it. That warning sat in my mind for a few seconds.
And I paused.
I decided to resume taking pictures but two military men came to warn me themselves.
Then I realized I had to stop.
Because sometimes, in Nigeria, even simple acts like taking a photo of public infrastructure can feel like a risk. There’s always that thin line between curiosity and caution.
But then I looked again at the view in front of me.
The sky was calm. The road was open. The airport stood proudly in the distance.
And I thought to myself, this is a moment worth capturing.
This image isn’t just about an airport. It’s about perspective.
It’s about seeing beauty in places we often overlook; like a dusty roadside or a building still wrapped in construction materials. It’s about appreciating the geometry of structures, the contrast between earth and sky, the quiet drama of cranes against clouds.
What I love most about this shot is its honesty.
There’s no heavy editing. No dramatic filter. Just the raw scene, the road, the tower, the construction, the open sky. It tells its own story. A story of movement. Of departure. Of ambition.
And maybe that’s why I felt compelled to share it here.
Because photography lovers understand this feeling. That moment when you see a frame forming in real life and you instinctively reach for your camera. That small rush when you capture it just before it passes.
Yesterday’s drive to the airport taught me observations is key, slowing down matters and to notice things.
Even in places where others might say, “There’s nothing special here.”
There is always something special, if you’re looking closely enough.
Sometimes, the best frames are the ones taken in between destinations.
Let me know what you see in this image.
What stands out to you; the architecture, the road, the sky, the symbolism?
I’d love to hear your perspective.
