I Am Learning to Photograph Things That Didn’t Happen

PHOTOSNACK #779

Here is my Sunday thought.

I photographed this a few days ago.

Nothing happened there. No arrival, no departure, no gesture, no moment. Just a piece of ground, layered, cracked, repaired, worn.

And yet I stopped. I raised the camera. I pressed the shutter. I kept it.

For a long time, this would have felt wrong. Photography is supposed to be about something happening — a face, a coincidence, a decisive moment. We are trained to look for peaks, for images that justify themselves through drama or meaning.

This one just exists.

There is no story inside it. No character, no implied narrative, no emotional shortcut. It doesn’t even tell you where it was taken. It could be anywhere. It could be nowhere.

And that is exactly why it feels important to me now.

The world is oversaturated with events. Everything is documented, uploaded, and framed as content. Every image tries to perform, to explain itself, to compete for attention.

This one refuses.

It doesn’t entertain. It doesn’t guide you. It doesn’t reward you quickly. It simply sits there, shaped slowly by time and small, anonymous repairs.

When I look at it, I feel calmer than when I look at most “strong” photographs. Because nothing is demanded from me. No message to decode. No story to follow.

So the real question is not whether this image is interesting enough, but whether you can stay with an image that gives you nothing back.

No story. No message. No payoff.

Can you still look?

Until next time,
Tomasz