My father was the one who lovingly documented parts of my childhood by taking photos and filming short scenes to preserve precious memories. He passed away when I was 15, and I still miss him with all my heart.

After his death, it took me another 20 years to discover my own passion for photography. I bought myself a fairly simple camera and just started taking pictures. There was a lot of trial and error, but step by step, year by year, I began to understand what I wanted to do, how to handle the camera, and how to train my eyes.

I saved all my extra money for another four years until I was finally able to buy a new body — and even more importantly, some good and solid lenses.

I’m not ambitious, but I’m curious and in love with taking pictures. For me, it’s the best way to step back from my job (which I do love) and from all the little and bigger problems that come with everyday life. I wish I could spend more time taking pictures and exploring more ways of seeing what I see. But then again, I guess everything turns out the way it’s supposed to.