The gray of the winter sky was reflected in the lens of his camera. Despite the cold and repeated storm warnings, the young man felt compelled to go out for a walk in his own paradise, his secret garden. Whenever he had a spare moment, he would go down to the banks of the Han River to think of something else. And today, even more than usual, he needed to do it. It was two o'clock and he should have taken care of his papers. But just the look of them depressed and stressed him.

Click

His camera had captured the first memory of the day which was the chaotic landscape in front of him. The gray sky was threatening, the fish no longer appeared on the surface of the water. The path made of sand and gravel only existed in places, the rest, the water had submerged it. When it was just puddles, the children would jump in, when the river had overflowed, animals could be seen splashing around quietly.

Click

He also took a picture of the little girl's smile, soaked up to her knees. The boy was taking all his time. His paradise was very close. Several times he had to stop to catch his breath. As soon as someone passed him he would cut himself off. The people, the dogs, nothing frightened him more than the outside world. To have more than a dozen people in his line of sight was torture.

Click

Click

Another one, for the pleasure of seeing the anthracite color on its screen. The pre-storm sky hypnotized him. He lowered his head, hiding from those heavy dark clouds watching him, looking at his shoes. They were full of mud. One more time. That's it, he saw the beginning of the pontoons of his paradise. Yes his own paradise was just a few planks of wood, forming a long path above ever higher water. A long path that took him elsewhere, in another space-time. It was the only place the youngster felt good. With his room.

Click

He passed the anti-bicycle barriers in his garden. After a few steps he went to the wooden balustrades. With his arms crossed and resting on the ledge, he watched the birds and boats with white oars pass by. These resembled the wings of freedom. The wind was starting to pick up, passing through her hair, causing it to fly. The young man ran his hand through his brown hair tugging towards the red, trying to keep everything in its place.

Click

The seagull was immortalized in its flight by his camera. They were all going to the same place. A little further, after a more elevated pa