Ever since I discovered photography in 1996 in New York, it has never left my side. It has become something I think about daily—without exaggeration. Photography has woven itself into every aspect of my life. It’s no longer just an act of creating images; it’s the way I perceive the world.
A walk is never just a walk. Every movement, every shadow, every passerby, becomes a subject, a frame, a potential story. Even without my camera, I observe with the eye of a photographer. I compose in my mind. I see light differently. I notice angles, lines, symmetry, chaos, beauty, contradiction.
The theater of life unfolds before me constantly. And I find myself looking for that perfect moment—where light meets subject, where emotion is caught mid-breath, where humanity reveals itself.
Even before I sleep, the images of the day parade in front of my eyes. Some become etched in memory. Others fade. Like memories, I keep some, discard others. They are curated in the gallery of my inner world.
Sometimes I wonder—if I had never found photography, how different would my life be? What would have filled its space? What would I have turned to, to make sense of life?
But then I remind myself—I did find it. And I never let it go.