I never set out to “document” anything. I started taking pictures the way some people keep a baseline reading — just to know where I was, on the days I couldn’t say it out loud. The camera turned out to be a quieter language: it let me name things by their color and their edge, before I had to name them at all.
What I keep circling back to is a single question I still can’t close: how much of what I see is the world, and how much is just me, developing in the dark. I don’t have the answer. I have a few thousand frames that keep asking it — and a quiet I’m slowly learning to stand inside.