I was wondering if, after all these years, you’d still recognize me. If the way I hold you, the way I frame the world through you, still feels the same. Photography, my oldest and dearest companion, do you remember when we first met? When I first fell in love with the way light kissed the edges of a scene, how shadows whispered stories, how a single frame could hold a lifetime of emotion?
I often think about the early days—fumbling with settings, missing the moment, feeling like I’d never quite get it right. Awkward. Shy. Embarrassed. But you were patient. You let me try again and again, until the camera, you, became an extension of my eye, my heart, my soul.
Hello from the other side.
I’ve traveled far and wide with you, through every season of my life. I’ve watched sunrises through your lens and chased light across city streets. I’ve captured faces filled with joy, sorrow, love, and longing. I’ve been the silent observer, the storyteller, the poet who writes with pixels instead of words.
But sometimes, not often, I feel like I’ve lost you. Like I’ve taken you for granted. There are days when I pick you up and wonder if you still see me the same way I see you. When did the passion start to fade? When did the weight of expectations—likes, follows, clients, deadlines—begin to overshadow the simple act of creating for the love of it?
I want to go back. I want to stand in front of something beautiful and press the shutter not because I should, but because I must. Because I feel it. Because I need to remember what it’s like to be moved by a moment, not just to capture one.
Hello, can you hear me?
I’m calling out to the artist in me, the one who first picked up a camera and saw magic in the mundane. The one who believed that every photograph was a chance to say something real, to freeze time in a way that made the world stop and stare.
I know we’ve had our ups and downs. I’ve questioned you. I’ve doubted myself. But I could never truly walk away. Even when I tried, you called me back with the way light dances on the water, the hush of a city before dawn, the way a single glance can say everything words never could.
Maybe we just needed this conversation. Maybe all relationships—especially the ones that matter—go through phases of doubt and rediscovery. Maybe the best is still ahead of us.
So, I’m here. Ready to fall in love all over again. To pick up my camera and let it lead me where it wants to go, without expectation, without pressure—just the simple joy of seeing, feeling, and capturing.
Hello, photography. It’s me. And I’m not letting go.
Click.
Jack.
