The old monastery church in my hometown is a place etched deeply in my heart—a silent witness to my childhood. I remember the Sunday afternoons, walking hand in hand with my mom, the echoes of the hymns filling the air as we entered its weathered walls. This church wasn’t just a building; it was the heart of our neighborhood, a place where generations gathered in quiet reverence.
Over the years, it transformed. From a place of worship to a mental institution, it carried with it stories of suffering, hope, and healing. Today, it holds a monastery and a priest school, continuing its legacy of service and faith in a different form.
For me, photographing this church wasn’t just about my love for aerial photography. It was an emotional journey—a way to reconnect with the past, to capture a piece of history that shaped me. As the lens captured its rugged walls and the clock and cross at the top of its individual tower, I wasn’t just observing a building; I was reliving the moments of my youth, the lessons learned, and the spirit of the community that once thrived there. It’s more than a photograph; it’s a tribute to times gone by, and to the place that will always live in my memories.