April 22, 2026

Walking to a quiet monastery

A friend suggested a quiet monastery months ago, and this week I finally went. The café near a quiet monastery still serves the same cinnamon buns; I had two and pretended it was research.

Walking back, I found a side street I had never noticed before, lined with tiny workshops. Halfway through I switched to black and white, which suited the unhurried weather much better.

On the way home the train was nearly empty, so I reviewed the day's notes and planned the next trip. I kept a paper notebook this time, writing down the time and the light for every roll.

Shooting with an old film camera meant I had to get closer than I am used to, which was uncomfortable at first. The light was unhurried, and long shadows kept pulling my attention away from anything I had planned to photograph.

Most of the morning went into watching long shadows; I took fewer frames than usual, but each one felt deliberate. Locals barely noticed me. A man feeding gulls told me the place looks completely different in spring.

If you go, bring warm socks and a thermos — the café closes early.