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The porcelain holds its pattern, the spoon stands still.
Light from the lamp spills soft, uneven—just enough to touch the rim, the lace, the crumbs.
The coffee’s surface is dark, almost black.
The biscuits rest beside it, cracked and golden.
The grinder behind, half-open, suggests the beans were just ground.
The paper with “Trois Amours” leans back, almost hidden.
The scene feels intimate, not staged.
But the shadows around the edges are too deep—almost swallowing the edges of the table.
A touch more light on the wood might ground the still life better.
Wladyslaw, what was the time of day when you shot this?
Did you use the lamp as the main light, or did you add something else?