There’s something truly magical about autumn, a season that transforms the world into a living painting. Every year, I find myself waiting for that moment when the air turns crisp, the light softens, and the trees explode in color. For a photographer, it’s a dream come true, a time when nature offers a palette so rich and fleeting that it feels almost sacred to capture it.

Deep in the Estonian countryside lies Murru Vangla, a name that evokes a chilling resonance for many. Once a formidable Soviet era prison and labor camp, it now stands as a captivating, yet somber, monument to a complex past. Its decaying walls, silent corridors, and abandoned machinery attract urban explorers, photographers, and history enthusiasts from around the world.

I've visited Taevaskoda more times than I can count and yet every single visit feels like the first. There’s something timeless and grounding about this place, an almost sacred silence in the cliffs, the gentle flow of the Ahja River, the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Whether I go alone with my camera or walk the trail with a friend, Taevaskoda never fails to stop me in my tracks. It's one of those rare places where time feels like it pauses and all that exists is nature, light, and presence.

When we think of photography, we often picture landscapes, portraits, wildlife, or street scenes — images that are grounded in the recognizable and real. But there’s a genre that invites us to step away from the literal and immerse ourselves in mood, form, and texture: abstract photography.