She felt as though she had just escaped infinity.
The fog and the rumbling in her head made the landscape around her appear dazzlingly bright. She was disoriented. Everything she had known until then stood upside down, and it was precisely this wrongness that occupied most of her clouded mind.
“Infinity. What a strange concept,” she thought, as though every atom of space were thinking alongside her.
A corridor with no beginning and no end. A place where there was neither a first nor a last point, only endless continuation. In truth, she had never known that she was walking in circles. She thought she was going somewhere. She thought she was moving. Perhaps that was the trap — a person could walk for a very long time without ever drawing closer to an exit, and yet still be inevitably approaching the end.
Somewhere behind her, there was a crash.
A door had just closed, it seemed, irrevocably.
She flinched and turned around, but there was nothing before her except light, so white that it hurt to look at. For a moment, she thought she should go back. To check. To see what had been left behind that door. To convince herself once more that she had truly been walking for so long.
And yet, she did not move.
She did not know what lay ahead. She did not even know where she was. She only knew that, for the first time, what lay behind her was no longer her only possibility.
And so she remained standing.
She took a breath.
The air was different.
She was different.
She decided to sit down and rest for a moment
Photo: Paul Hanaoka
Read our “Camouflage” issue in full
RAWGUE.’s 4th issue delved into the grey, moody, and cold atmosphere of winter. Yet it did not sink into the depths of madness or depression. Instead, it embraced this season of hibernation, allowing 31 artists from all over the world to present their timid work beneath a veil of quiet beauty.
My work explores traces of human presence in spaces we leave behind, as well as the emotions that remain in their absence. I am drawn to places and moments where something feels both present and quiet: rooms, abandoned objects, and fragile everyday scenes shaped by time and memory. Through photography, I try to preserve the subtle tension between presence and absence, capturing atmospheres and feelings that are often invisible but deeply felt. Based in Serbia.
