Neon city

Photographed in Malmö, Summer 2022

I wasn’t looking for another world. But I walked into one. 

 A vast, multi-level parking space — open, structured, silent. I don’t know where everyone was. Maybe they were never meant to be there. All I saw were colored windows casting surreal reflections — pinks, blues, greens — like the city had been dipped in neon and drained of life. 

 There were no footsteps but mine. No voices. No signs of time moving forward or back. Just an endless light pouring through color, slicing through the concrete, bathing the space in something that felt… unreal. 

I kept walking. Floor after floor. Surrounded by structure but wrapped in emptiness. The fluorescent glow lit my path like a portal — somewhere between a sci-fi dream and a forgotten future. 

I felt small. Disconnected. Moved. 

It was beautiful, and it was terrifying. As if I had entered a version of our world where humans had vanished, leaving only the bones of a city and the artificial light to remember them by. 

Is this where we’re going? A future built with no place left for feeling? A city glowing in color, yet hollow in soul? 

 In Neon City, I wasn’t just photographing a place. I was standing in the echo of something I couldn’t name.