I chose my current studio because it represents me in many ways. It’s a flexible space where everything is connected, reflecting my architectural approach—spaces that connect people and make them feel good. I chose a private interior because it’s where I disconnect from external inputs and find inner peace, allowing my creativity to flourish. I believe we must know ourselves first before truly connecting with the world.

This place also symbolizes freedom: I can go whenever I want, bring whoever I choose, and don’t need to explain myself to anyone. It’s a spacious area where I place my desk in the center to work on models and group projects. That openness and flexibility are why I feel there are no barriers here—only opportunities. To me, that’s what architecture should convey.

I chose my current studio because it represents me in many ways. It’s a flexible space where everything is connected, reflecting my architectural approach; spaces that connect people and make them feel good. I chose a private interior because it’s where I disconnect from external inputs and find inner peace, allowing my creativity to flourish. I believe we must know ourselves first before truly connecting with the world.

This place also symbolizes freedom: I can go whenever I want, bring whoever I choose, and don’t need to explain myself to anyone. It’s a spacious area where I place my desk in the center to work on models and group projects. That openness and flexibility are why I feel there are no barriers here—only opportunities. To me, that’s what architecture should convey.

I would describe this experience as a form of meditation for me. In our everyday lives, we often focus too much on work, studying, and other responsibilities that fill our minds—often with thoughts that aren’t truly meaningful. That’s why finding activities like martial arts, especially Jiu-Jitsu, can be so valuable. It demands not only physical energy but also intense mental focus.

As people often say, practicing Jiu-Jitsu is like playing chess with your body. What I enjoy most about this sport is that it requires complete engagement—physically, mentally, and emotionally. You have to be fully present, and that level of focus is rare in most other sports, in my opinion.

Although some might assume that martial arts are inherently violent, Jiu-Jitsu—and many other martial arts—are actually rooted in respect, discipline, and courage. The tatami (training mat) teaches you how to remain calm even when you’re pushed to your limits. It helps you develop resilience and composure in difficult situations—skills that are incredibly valuable in everyday life.

Jiu-Jitsu is not just a martial art; it’s a way of life. It represents respect, discipline, and the pursuit of becoming the best version of yourself. That’s why I love it. 

*slurp* I take a sip of coffee. I am sitting in a strange dining room and looking out of the big window. I see an endless lake. I see bare grassy hills with no trees beeing warmed by the high altitude sun. A net of window frames engulfs the womb and protects me from the harsh sun. I can sense the past of this place; the worn parquet floor, the smell of old soviet furniture and falling plaster. My thoughts are interrupted by footsteps on the creaky floor; the waiter has brought me my paklava. As the honey meets my tongue, all my senses have been touched.

All my close friends and colleagues know where I come from, but no one knows what kind of atmosphere I grew up in. I spent my childhood here in the southwest of Moscow. Regardless of the depressing view from my room that I saw every day, I was genuinely happy. At first glance, it seemed like a scary stone jungle, which gave a feeling of oppression, melancholy, and not escapism. But when I looked out of the window on the ninth floor where I lived, I observed life in these jungles. Children played on the playground while their parents talked to each other, and old people fed stray cats or pigeons. I always watched people come to our yard and park their cars in empty spaces, but what made me happiest was watching my father come home from work and park his car. In the evening, when it was dark, everyone went home and turned on the lights in their apartments. It was a completely different picture, a different place. There was no one outside, but everything was happening inside the blocks. As I looked into the shining windows, I thought about how vast the world was, and I thought about this place, which was the world for me at that time. I haven't been to this place for twelve years, and despite the terrible architecture and urbanism where I lived, I always remember it with warmth in my heart. I can safely say that this was my place, where my life began.

Since I was a small child going to my first day of school, this football court has represented a place of bonding with others. Every day after school, there was either a football match, a basketball game, or some other activity here. The same goes for summer days, when we spent the whole day there, every day.Even after finishing elementary school, it remained a place to meet, bond, and talk about what was happening in everyone’s life. Some days it's empty, on others a few kids play on it and at times, there's even a football tournament with teams from other towns in the municipality.To almost every person in town, this place brings back memories of a simpler time. Throughout all these years, it hasn’t stayed the same it changed with us but the happy memories of the countless people who met and bonded here have stayed and will forever be captured in this place.

The square in front of Casa de la Vall, the most historic building in Andorra, is the result of a recent intervention that brings new life to this important place. The project opens the most iconic façade of the old Parliament building to a large public space, creating a respectful connection between the past and the present.

This new square works as an intermediate space between the old Parliament (Casa de la Vall) and the new building nearby. It is used for cultural events, public ceremonies, concerts and also as a daily public square for locals and visitors.

In the picture, we can see how the old stone streets and traditional materials are preserved. The intervention is careful and soft, helping people remember the history of the place while allowing it to be active and useful today.

I took this photo in a small plaza in Gràcia, and for some reason, it instantly made me feel like I was home,  not just here in Barcelona, but also in Egypt.

There’s something about kids playing in the street, the sound of laughter, and the chaos of bubbles flying everywhere that brings me back to my childhood. It reminded me of summer nights in Egypt, where we’d play outside until late, making up games with whatever we could find.

Even though the architecture and the setting are completely different, the feeling is the same. That shared joy, that sense of being part of a place.

I think that’s what made this moment so special. For a second, it didn’t matter where I was. I just felt connected to my past, to this city, and to the people around me. Barcelona has a way of creating those small, quiet moments where everything feels familiar, even when it’s new.

Het onzichtbare zichtbaar maken

In het heden is NU de ander kwetsbaar en fragiel. Samenkomen is heden tien dagen vergeten. Het belang van ontmoeting, het missen van creativiteit en het leren van elkaar. Het is een zoektocht naar het terug verbinden met de ander. Met een ruimte die van de oudheid al bestaat, die anders is, een heterotopie van zijn tijd. Een terugblik naar de oudheid. Zonder de aanwezigheid van een patio zou er geen bestaan ​​​​van een villa kunnen zijn, daarom was het meteen een gedeelde plek. In een patio waar de ander samenkwam, werd gezien als een ontmoetingsplek. De publieke ruimte bestaat niet meer. Het streven om de publieke ruimte te vormen, die vertrekt vanuit de innerlijke ruimte van de ander.Een poëtische marge waar de ziel van de andere zal raken.

De patio geeft een thuisgevoel, waarin architectuur vertrouwd zal worden. Het doel is om van de patio een zichtbare publieke plek te maken die gedeeld wordt met de ander. De herinnering van de ander is essentieel, maar deze wordt vandaag de dag vergeten.
Een metafoor van een patio. Een ruimte die gedeeld werd met de buitenwereld, waarbij het interieur openstaat en samen in verbinding is met de buitenwereld. Het begint vanuit een omsloten patio waardoor de wand zich ontwikkelt door de naar binnen kleinere kleinere patio. Deze trekt de kenmerkende eigenschappen van de buitenwereld naar binnen. Door de omkering van een ruimte in een ruimte ontstaat er een patio in een patio. Deze omkeerbaarheid vormt een drempelloze toegankelijkheid naar de innerlijke ruimte.
Zo wordt de onzichtbare wereld zichtbaar voor de buitenwereld, en wordt de onzichtbare onzichtbaar.

Es un patio con un árbol de mangos como corazón, orquídeas consentidas y demás plantas que traen vida y recuerdos a la casa. En el patio de yaya nos bañamos con agua de la manguera en días calurosos. En el patio de yaya recogiamos mangos cada vez que llegaba la temporada. En el patio de yaya celebramos nuestros cumpleaños, colgamos luces en los arboles para navidad, asi como tambien llegue a sembrar plantas. Durante los inicios de covid-19, pasé todas las tardes en el patio de yaya para estar fuera de las 4 paredes. Entre estas se mantienen las memorias en el patio de yaya. A este lugar siempre le llamamos casa de yaya, patio de yaya, y asi siempre será.

He recorrido muchas ciudades, he visto muchos atardeceres. Pero jamás he visto uno tan bonito como los que veo en mi lugar seguro, mi hogar. Todas las tardes solía salir al patio para poder admirar semejante obra de arte, son unos colores que me dejan sin palabras y con una sensación y sentimiento que no he vuelto a sentir en ningún lugar por más bonito que sea. Es por eso que cuando pienso en tranquilidad y paz, pienso en los atardeceres de mi lugar seguro.

Platicas profundas y platicas sin sentido, personas con las que comparto una gran cantidad de emociones y que forman parte de mis memorias. Es un lugar que termina siendo el destino sin ser pensado, nos da un espacio en el cual se permite conectar.