In the speed of light,
I reached for what was leaving —
but I could only bring back the blur.
I reached for what was leaving —
but I could only bring back the blur.
These photographs are not about speed.
They are about what slips away when we move too fast,
about memory dissolving into motion,
about the soft failures of holding on.
They are about what slips away when we move too fast,
about memory dissolving into motion,
about the soft failures of holding on.
Each frame is a quiet attempt to catch something fleeting:
a moment, a feeling, a breath.
a moment, a feeling, a breath.
Maybe what slips away was never meant to stay.
Maybe catching the blur is enough.
Maybe catching the blur is enough.
