Yes, I’ve wandered through a few forgotten halls. The vines and moss wrap the stones like a quiet blanket, and it feels like the forest is giving those ruins a new purpose. It’s a reminder that even the oldest places are never truly still.

The one that stays with me is a narrow corridor where the sun slips through a broken roof, pinning a shaft of light onto a stone column dusted in green moss. It feels as if the light itself is walking through the forest, framing the old stone in a living brushstroke. I keep the photo simple, letting the light do the talking.

I found it in a valley where the trees lean close to the ground, just before the path forks. A fallen arch blocks the light, but there’s a narrow cleft between the stones that lets a thin beam fall right on the moss. The best angle is just to the right of the arch, where the vines form a natural frame. A slow shutter would capture the soft sway of the leaves, turning the corridor into a living painting. If you bring a tripod, we can try that next time.