Ostuni, somewhere in the white maze

I don’t know what it is about narrow passages and staircases that pull me in. Every time I’m somewhere new, I end up in the back streets, the forgotten corners, the places nobody else stopped to look at. Everyone else at the typical viewpoints. And I am here.

The staircase. It goes up, turns, disappears. You can’t see where it ends. For me that’s kind of how I see things in general. Not the obvious. Not the front door. Always the side entrance, the alley, the detail on the wall that everyone stepped over. I think I just trust that something interesting is around the corner more than I trust what’s already in front of me.

Ostuni is genuinely one of the most beautiful places I’ve been. And I don’t say that easily. The white. That’s the thing. It’s not decorative, it’s not a style choice for tourists — it’s been that way for centuries, whitewash on everything, every surface, practical and obsessive at the same time. Walking through it felt like the city had been cleaned from the inside out.

White passage. Ostuni, 2025

That’s actually what hit me. It felt healthy. Not pristine, not perfect — you can see in this photo the stone steps are worn, stained, old. But the white around it holds everything together. Like the structure is sound even when the details are rough. I think about that now when I think about what clean actually means. Not spotless. Just — structurally okay. The bones are good.

The light there does something strange too. It bounces off every surface. Even in the shade you’re not really in the dark. There’s always reflected light coming from somewhere. You’re always seeing more than you expect to see.

This photo for me is about what you find when you’re not looking for the main thing. The famous view of Ostuni is the rooftops, the cathedral, the valley below. Classic. Beautiful. This is a street sign, some worn stairs, a corner. Nobody’s postcard. But it’s the one I keep coming back to.

And I’ve realised I try to live in a similar way.

Keeping things simple helps more than adding more. Eating real food, walking every day, giving myself time to think without noise — nothing complicated, but consistent. Like these streets. Repeated, maintained, not overdesigned.

When I rush, I miss things. When I slow down, I notice more, not just in photography, but in how I feel. Energy is better, decisions are clearer, everything is a bit more stable.

There is also something about not needing everything to be perfect. The steps here are worn, uneven, marked by use. Still completely functional. Still holding. That matters more than how it looks.

I think that’s what I take from places like this. Not inspiration in a big sense. Just small corrections.

Slow down. Keep it simple. Pay attention to what is already there.

-Maruša-