For me it was Paris and New York. Never did I leave any empty space in my heart for another city. I never imagined that another city of the same caliber existed—until I crossed the equator for the first time.

When I met the streets of Buenos Aires I encountered colors, people, art and textures. An unprecedented genuineness in the way people dressed. Specks of Italian influence adorned their smiling faces. Buildings felt Parisian, as if Paris resided on top of the Mediterranean.

Parks were scattered across the city. My initial goal was to observe couples (friends or romantic) that were relaxing, strolling, standing side by side in parks, coffee shops, in front of storefronts, along the aisles. But you only have 36 frames and a wonder city lying ahead. You might find instances of this idea in some photographs, although I was astonished buy the folks that looked peaceful in their loneliness. Absorbing, the sun, the sounds, reading. They ruined my concept, yet they taught me a lesson: Hanging by yourself can at times be easier than it sounds.

As if that weren’t enough of a thrill, I ran across the artsmen. While strolling through Palermo, right next to a coffee shop I stumbled upon a storefront where people were dancing tango. Midday afternoon. Maria, the gracious host who organizes lessons and events let us take my second favorite photograph of this work. The patrons’ lack of uniformity enabled a welcoming breeze, as though a random Greek photographer capturing this spontaneous, indoor festivity was an everyday occurrence.

The tango puppet street show artists (link to be added) invited us with their movements to join in the celebration, embellishing the streets of Palermo, always accompanied by the echoes of music.

This blog is a work in progress

I fell for Buenos Aires

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