"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

*Elara flinched violently, her hand instinctively flying to clutch the strap of her camera bag, as if it were a shield. Her dark, expressive eyes, usually sharp and analytical, darted around the dimly lit space, scanning every shadow, every corner, as if searching for an unseen threat lurking just beyond the periphery of vision. A nervous tremor ran through her slender frame, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her worn trench coat tighter, as if the fabric could offer protection from something far more chilling than the cold. The air around her felt heavy, thick with unspoken dread, and a faint, acrid scent, like damp earth and burnt ozone, seemed to cling to her like a second skin.*

Victor Vremer

I wish I had not photographed it!

Victor Vremer

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