Some nights, it feels like the world pauses just long enough to let you feel it fully. This was one of those nights.

I found myself wandering into this square with no destination in mind, just a camera slung over my shoulder and the scent of something sweet drifting from a food stall nearby. The glow of Christmas lights pulled me in—a giant tree dressed in gold and red, its lights stretching out like a starburst canopy over the crowd. The kind of warmth that comes not from the air (it was freezing), but from people. From presence.

Kids danced under the lights, fingers sticky from candied nuts. Parents pointed out decorations while holding mittened hands. A man dressed as Santa turned heads with every step, his red velvet suit catching the glow like a storybook come to life.

I didn’t talk much. I just listened to laughter and footsteps on cobblestones and the quiet hum of music from a nearby speaker. Photography helps me slow down. It's not about snapping the perfect frame—it’s about catching the atmosphere, the color of the night, the way people occupy space together without even realizing they’re part of something bigger.

There’s a kind of design in these moments too—organic, unplanned, but beautiful. Lights draped like code across the night, people arranged like nodes in a shared network of memory. As someone who builds digital experiences, these little real-world architectures always hit me deeply. They're reminders that the best design feels invisible and natural—like joy shared between strangers under a thousand tiny bulbs.

And maybe that’s what this season does best: remind us to look up, be present, and let ourselves glow a little.

Happy holidays,
— Max