![\"\"](\"https:\/\/static.euronews.com\/website\/images\/logos\/logo-euronews-stacked-outlined-72x72-grey-9.svg\"){kind=logo}
\n ADVERTISEMENT<\/p>\n
Our Instagram feeds have changed a lot since the platform launched in 2010. <\/p>\n
\n ADVERTISEMENT<\/p>\n
\n ADVERTISEMENT<\/p>\n
Posts used to offer a glimpse into everyday life (admittedly with a heavy filter on top); nowadays, folks tend to only share their biggest wins and, of course, their holidays<\/a>.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not just a case of people going to the same places, either \u2013 they\u2019re also taking exactly the same photos. <\/p>\n That\u2019s why you\u2019ll find queues near the blue domes of Oia, Santorini, or by the Itsukushima Shrine Torii in Japan, as people wait to secure the \u201cperfect\u201d shot. Barcelona is even creating a dedicated selfie zone<\/a> outside of the Sagrada Fam\u00edlia to stop clashes with locals.<\/p>\n Yet there is a growing trend taking over the \u2018gram, and it\u2019s not what you\u2019d typically consider aesthetically pleasing.<\/p>\n Enter: brutalist architecture.<\/p>\n The bare-bones, concrete-dominant buildings that sprang up in the post-war period aren\u2019t exactly social media fodder, but that hasn\u2019t stopped tourists flocking to former socialist countries in search of them.<\/p>\n Skopje, a brutalist architecture fan\u2019s dream<\/p>\n One place cashing in on the trend is Skopje, the capital of North Macedonia.<\/p>\n After a devastating earthquake in 1963, which saw 80% of the city\u2019s buildings destroyed, architects from around the globe scrambled to help with rebuilding efforts, leading to a diverse range of brutalist styles living in harmony with each other.<\/p>\n