THE GUARDIANS OF FANAL

In the mists of Fanal, the trees rise like ancient beings, their branches draped in moss as if the forest itself were breathing slowly. Alive, twisted, wise—they seem to guard time beneath the green veil of the laurel forest.

Every trunk is a map of textures, every branch a line written by wind and moisture. The light, filtered through the fog, creates a scene suspended between dream and reality.

Photographing these trees is stepping into an almost mythic world, where life springs from bark and silence speaks softly.