Not for a day.
It’s no longer just something I do.
It’s how I see.
A walk isn’t just a walk.
Every shadow, every stranger, every corner becomes part of a frame—
even when the camera stays home.
Light feels different.
Lines speak.
I notice symmetry. And the beautiful disorder around it.
The world unfolds like a quiet stage.
And I look for that one moment—
when light touches a face just right,
when emotion pauses,
when something human reveals itself.
At night, the day replays in images.
Some stay. Others fade.
I keep them—like memories—
filed in an inner archive I didn’t know I was building.
Sometimes I wonder—what would my life be without photography?
What would have taken its place?
But I did find it.
And I never let it go.