Different Places, Same People

One of the things I enjoy about travelling with a camera is realising how similar people are, regardless of where you happen to be standing.

The first photograph was taken in a market in Alicante. I noticed a man adjusting his cap, completely absorbed in the task. It lasted a second or two, but it felt familiar. We all have those little routines. Tiny adjustments before carrying on with the day. The sort of things we barely notice in ourselves but immediately recognise in other people.

A few days later, in Cartagena, I found myself watching a couple sitting by the marina. The boats behind them were gently moving with the water, but neither seemed particularly interested in any of that. They were in their own world, sharing a quiet moment together. Nothing dramatic was happening, which is probably why I stopped to photograph it.

The church was also in Cartagena. Like many churches, it offered a brief escape from the heat and noise outside. People wandered in, slowed down and spoke more softly. Whether you’re religious or not, there seems to be an unspoken agreement in places like that. For a few minutes, everybody eases off the accelerator.

Looking through these photographs afterwards, I realised they’re all connected by the same thing.

A man adjusting his cap.

Two people sitting quietly together.

A place built for reflection.

None of them are remarkable moments on their own. They’re the sort of scenes most people walk past every day without giving them a second thought. Yet those are often the photographs I find myself returning to.

Photography has a habit of convincing us that we need something extraordinary in front of the lens. A spectacular landscape. A famous landmark. A once-in-a-lifetime event.

The longer I carry a camera, the less I believe that.

Most of the time, the photographs that stay with me are simply people getting on with being human.

Whether that’s in Alicante, Cartagena or back home in Britain, that part never seems to change.