Summer Stories - I

The shore stretches for miles along the lake. Whenever I get the chance, I head down to wander the sand. 

But there’s a limit to my walk: the moment the sand gets soggy and starts swallowing my hiking shoes, I make my way up the hill to the bike path, where, for some reason, I only ever run into joggers.

Yet, the shore is far from empty. An elderly fisherman has settled comfortably into a folding chair in the shade under a large tree, with two fishing rods in the water waiting for а catch.

A little further off, a group of teenage girls is getting ready to sail on unusual kayaks. I am seeing kayaks like these for the first time. They strike me as flimsy, yet at the same time, their shape is captivating.

The Morning Briefing

 

American White Pelicans in Huntsville.

Other Reality. Monochrome Mirages

Notes to Self. When the Feed Went Silent

 

Blogger is glitching, and we all know it. When my posts stopped updating a few days ago, I was met with silence.

To my surprise, I wasn’t upset. Instead, I found myself wondering how to reframe silence as private creative space. 

Interestingly, with the silence came a sense of relief. The pressure and insecurity evaporated. Suddenly, stripped of expectations, I was completely free.

I could experiment with deep shadows, abstract compositions, and heavy grain—without worrying about what other photographers thought.

And, mostly importantly, the silence gave me the freedom to make mistakes. 

Doubts will always creep in, but they are just raw material to work with—like shadows in a photograph. The goal is to keep shooting, keep experimenting, and keep building a narrative entirely on your own terms.

Generally, life is good.