Budapest

Last autumn, I took a weekend trip to Budapest, drawn by whispers of golden leaves and soft fog. The city greeted me with a quiet, misty morning... the kind that makes everything feel like a gentle secret. I wandered into Városliget Park just as the fog began to lift, revealing amber and crimson leaves clinging to branches like fire against the grey sky.

Camera in hand, I wandered slowly, chasing pockets of light filtering through the mist. Each photo felt like a quiet poem: empty benches, rustling leaves, reflections in puddles. There was a softness to everything that day, like Budapest itself had paused to breathe.