Photography, for me, is a quiet kind of magic, a way to snatch fleeting moments before they slip through the cracks of memory and vanish. Each photograph is a captured breath, a place, a feeling, a fleeting scene, held still and alive at once. And when those moments come together, they do more than sit as solitary mementos; they weave a rough tapestry of my life’s wanderings, a map of how I see this wild, unpredictable world.

“What day is it?” asked Pooh.

“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.

“My favorite day,” said Pooh.”