Sometimes I carry the camera, sometimes it carries me. I pay attention - to the way light leans against a wall, to the silence between people, to the way time slips past without asking permission. I never set out to make anything important. I only want to be present enough to notice what tries so hard not to be seen.

There’s a stillness I’m drawn to. Not the kind that feels empty, but the kind that hums quietly with everything we don’t say. A street corner. A window. The tired curve of someone’s back as they wait for a bus. These moments don’t need anything added. They just need someone to witness them with care.

The camera helps me stay inside a moment a little longer. Not to capture it, not to freeze it, but to understand it. Or at least to stand beside it for a while. Sometimes the photograph comes out of that. Sometimes it doesn’t. That part has never mattered much to me.

I don’t have an artist’s statement, not really. I have questions. I have longing. I have a deep love for things that pass. And if any of that makes it into an image, I feel thankful. That’s all. I feel thankful.