There are places where time seems to stand still, and Lake Braies is undoubtedly one of them. Nestled within the Dolomites of northern Italy, this lake possesses a charm that is hard to put into words. When I arrived that autumn afternoon, the forest was silent and the air cool, carrying the earthy scent of damp leaves and pine. The lake reflected the surrounding trees and buildings so perfectly that the entire landscape felt as though it was suspended between two worlds—reality and reflection.
The chapel, located on the far side of the lake, was a small stone building with a pointed steeple, perfectly in harmony with its surroundings. Although modest in size, it caught my eye with quiet authority. Framed by trees in gold and rust, it resembled a scene from a fairy tale. I stood there for a while, simply watching. The stillness was profound. There were no large crowds yet, only a few people and birds, and the faint sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet.
What moved me most was the light: soft, even, and slightly muted by the thin veil of clouds. It highlighted the saturated tones of the autumn foliage, giving the image both vibrancy and depth. The golden tree near the chapel, its leaves catching the light, became the emotional centre of the composition. It stood like a flame against the darker forest backdrop, beautifully mirrored in the waters below. That reflection is what held me captive; the perfect symmetry broken only by the slightest ripples, reminding me that beauty in nature is rarely static.
I set up my tripod quietly, almost reverently, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere. I knew I wanted to frame the image symmetrically, capturing not only the visual elements but also the serenity of the scene. The symmetry between the chapel and its reflection was more than aesthetic; it echoed a sense of balance and peace I felt in that moment.
There was something deeply personal about the experience. It was not just about photographing a beautiful location; it was about connecting with it, emotionally and spiritually. The scene evoked a gentle nostalgia, as if I had stumbled upon a memory I never knew I had. It reminded me of simpler moments—quiet mornings and the warmth of small things—like a solitary walk, the first chill of the season, or a sense of belonging in solitude.
As I clicked the shutter, I knew I had captured more than just an image. I had preserved a feeling; one of calm, gratitude, and quiet wonder in the face of nature’s subtle perfection. Lake Braies had offered me a gift: a fleeting moment I could return to whenever I needed stillness.
I will return one day, of that I am certain. Places like this do not fade; they linger in the soul, waiting to be visited once more.
