m̌ ḫ's photos

The Galeries Lafayette rooftop terrace is the ultimate proof that you don't need to pay a single euro to get a million-dollar view of Paris — you just have to pay with your patience instead. As you ascend through the department store, you are treated to a masterclass in Art Nouveau architecture. The building is an absolute stunner, anchored by a century-old stained-glass dome that makes you feel like you've stepped back into the Belle Époque. But the moment you step out onto the 7th floor, reality hits. You won't be finding any quiet, hidden romance here. Instead, you will find yourself in a sea of hundreds of tourists, all aggressively jockeying for the exact same selfie in front of the Eiffel Tower. There is absolutely nothing unique or exclusive about it; it is a beautifully packaged tourist trap. And yet, it is still incredibly nice. Because the building sits at the exact historic height of the surrounding Haussmann architecture, you aren't staring down at the city from a detached skyscraper. You are right there among the iconic zinc rooftops, close enough to practically touch the ornate dome of the Opéra Garnier . Is it crowded? Absolutely. Is it a cliché? Completely. But when you are standing there looking out over the Parisian horizon without having spent a dime, it is simply rewarding.

Smolenice chateau (Smolenický zámok) is interesting because it is almost a historical illusion. From a distance it looks medieval, but most of what you see is a romantic reinvention begun around 1900. Count Jozef Pálffy wanted not simply to repair the ruin, but to create an ideal castle inspired by Kreuzensten Castle near Vienna. The work drew craftsmen from Italy, Germany, Austria, and Hungary, who laboured alongside local villagers inside the ancient, ruined walls The project never followed a neat plan. The First World War interrupted construction, and unfinished rooms were used to shelter the Pálffy family archive. In 1945, the building was damaged again during the final months of World War II, and was subsequently nationalised by the state. Its final form is therefore an unusual collaboration across incompatible eras: a 15th-century medieval fortress, an aristocrat’s nineteenth-century fantasy, and a socialist-state completion. The greatest twist is what happened next. Instead of becoming only a museum, the castle was handed over to the Slovak Academy of Sciences (SAV) in 1953 and became a vibrant meeting place for researchers from many countries. So, behind those theatrical, fairytale towers, people discussed serious science. Smolenice is best understood not as a perfectly preserved relic, but as a building assembled from memory, ambition, and historical accidents — and one that ultimately found a completely unexpected second life.

Nestled among the bare, tangled branches at Schloss Hof is a beautiful twist on festive decoration. Small wooden birdhouses transform a solitary tree into a miniature winter village, offering a whimsical sanctuary for the local birds. This unique display honors the Central European legacy of handcrafted wooden Christmas ornaments, instantly giving the historic market square a warm, deeply nostalgic, and fairytale character.

For me, these photos are simply about walking through Palma and noticing the quieter, less obvious parts of the city. The narrow streets, old buildings, balconies and changing light give the old town a very particular atmosphere. If you have never been to Palma, you might also miss how different it looks beyond these streets. There are the obvious sights — the cathedral, the sea, the harbour, the larger squares and the more open parts of the city — but you don't really see any of that here. You also can't really see how warm it is, hear the sounds of people and the streets, or realise how close you are to the sea. And behind many of these façades there are courtyards, homes and everyday life that you don't see from the street. I think that's what I like about these streets — they don't necessarily look spectacular at first, but when you're actually walking through them, you keep discovering little details.

At Devín in Bratislava, the Morava River meets the Danube, creating a striking contrast between their waters. The Morava is often noticeably muddier and more brownish, carrying fine sediment from its drainage basin, whilst the Danube can appear clearer and more blue-green. The two waters do not mix immediately. Differences in flow, temperature, and sediment allow the contrasting colours to remain visible for a while before gradually blending downstream. This creates the distinctive two-coloured water effect that can be seen at the confluence, especially from above. The Morava also forms part of the Slovakia–Austria border here, making the meeting of the two rivers both a remarkable natural sight and an important geographical landmark.

This is one of my favorite shots from Myanmar—just a quiet, fleeting glance from a kid hiding behind some woven stalks. To him, I was probably the oddest thing he’d seen all week, since tourism hadn't really touched his village yet. It was right at the dawn of the country's democratic opening, and you could genuinely feel that buzz of new possibilities reaching all the way up into the mountains. But knowing how brutally things have regressed since the coup, the photo hits differently now. He’d be a young adult by now, and I always wonder what kind of reality he’s trapped in today.