The 'Magic' Hour.... [San Diego, Venezuela]
Almost without warning the light changed and San Diego turned into a city I barely recognized The roofs caught fire in silence and the air slowed down like it was waiting for someone to remember it I stayed there watching the hills stretch under the sun that was leaving too soon The camera felt heavy not from weight but from meaning There are moments when pressing the shutter feels like lying because nothing you capture will ever hold what the soul is trying to keep.
Before I took the photo I thought about how this city carries both pride and fatigue You can see it in the uneven lines of the houses in the unfinished walls that still smell of dust and hope There is beauty in that chaos an elegance that does not pretend The people move through it without looking up too much as if they have learned to protect themselves from wonder I understand them I live here too in this place that looks ordinary until the light hits it and everything aches a little.
Crossing the main avenue I felt how the air turned from gold to amber and then to something almost red The cars moved slower as if they knew what was happening The noise softened and for a second it was like the city was breathing with me I took the photo then not for others not for art but to prove to myself that this softness still exists even here even now I always think of San Diego as a promise that never finishes arriving It is a town that wants to grow and rest at the same time and I see myself in that contradiction.
During those minutes when the sun hesitates before leaving I remember why I keep photographing I am not chasing perfection or technique I am trying to hold a country that keeps slipping through my fingers Venezuela hides its tenderness behind noise and survival but when the light falls like this it cannot hide anymore The mountains blush the concrete glows and everything feels suspended between ruin and grace It hurts to look at it because it is too honest to pretend it will last.
Even when darkness starts to settle the warmth lingers like an afterthought I walk home and the streets are still breathing The camera hangs silent and I know the photo will never be enough but that is the point It is not about keeping the image it is about recognizing that something still moves inside me each time the world burns and softens at once That is my magic hour when San Diego reminds me that beauty and loss are the same thing wearing different light.
Buenas fotos!