I fell in love with photography in the spring of 2005, and it’s been the one steady source of joy in my life ever since. Photography is my love language. It is my first love.

Around 2005–2006, sometime in college, I realized I had never really seen photos of my childhood. There were no pictures of any of my birthdays—no first birthday, no second birthday, none. I had only seen a few studio family portraits and almost nothing from everyday life. It felt like I never existed. Maybe that’s why I care so much about photography now, it helps me keep moments from being lost.

There’s something deeply nostalgic about looking at old photographs and wondering about the people in them—where they are now and what their lives became. A single picture, a whole story.

A lot of people worry about looking perfect in a photo. But beauty isn’t in perfection, it’s in the moment. It’s in the realness, the feeling, the connection. That’s what lasts.

There’s no price tag on time. There’s no refund on the moments you didn’t spend with the people who matter—you don’t get those back. We spend so much of life worrying about material things, but the only question that really matters is this: are we living? Are we making memories?

The Egyptians carved their stories into stone. I etch mine in photographs, because moments are worth remembering. Years from now, these images will bring back feelings of joy, love, and connection.

Death is inevitable. When that day comes, don’t bring flowers to my funeral. Bring a photograph of us. Hold on to that moment and how it felt, how I made you feel, and how you made me feel. That is the memory I want you to keep when I’m gone.

I want to truly live. Sometimes it feels like I’m still getting there. That’s why I do this to hold on to life and create something that lasts.