lush, expansive, timeless
Muir Woods
Golden Gate National Recreation Area
My photography is my attempt at immortality. It is the way I defy time, my silent war against forgetting. When I long for the stillness of these perfect memories, I see them reflected in the image of a forest, a sky and an unwinding silver road — and in those moments, I struggle to believe that time is linear. I struggle to believe that we are not eternal.
Walupt Creek Falls
Gifford Pinchot National Forest
June is the month of peaches, their pulps sweet like candy. It is the month of warmth, delight and poetry. In June, I take off to the Pacific Northwest and have the privilege of photographing a brilliant photographer. I drive 214 miles in a day in the pursuit of beauty. I take a lot of photos in my new camera, gifted to me by somebody I cherish — and I find myself dancing to the realization that my invincibility does not hinge on another. We don’t have to wait for a lover or a friend to accompany us on the journey of our dreams. Sometimes, the shattering of a fantasy is a reminder that we were dreaming too small.
Offroad
North Cascades National Park
The state of nature.
Golden, ethereal, untamed
Phantom Ship Overlook
Crater Lake National Park
When promises become mirages and time gets in the way of it all, I revisit the moments in which we had found eternity. That hazy, late summer drive back home from Southern Oregon, Novo Amor playing in the background as the redwoods drenched themselves in the coastal fog, you asked me if I wanted to risk it all to get away with you. And on my doorstep, you let me know that it was my last chance.
I’d dreamed about our sweet escape since the time before I was born, but I said no. I chose our goodbye instead. What is the allure of the sweet escape? There is a greater joy in being able to call a place home.
Machapuchre
Ulleri, Nepal
The harmony of silver and gold.
Golden Canyon
Death Valley National Park
What if I told you that this one life isn’t enough? That we will find each other again and again in the lifetimes to come. And that this story doesn’t begin with life or end with death — but will carry itself along the thread of eternity. What if I told you that our moments of delight are just a shared conviction away? That all it takes is a desire, a will to become.
I don’t know how to tell you that this can’t be our first time. Will you let it be our last?
Poon Hill
Myagdi, Nepal
I now understand why nostalgia is deeply cherished across societies, why we put so much weight on remembering. It is how we are carried. In stories. In prayers. In a thought, in a fleeting moment when the entire universe is cast like honey. I'd wake up at 4AM every day for these sweet autumn mornings. I'd wake up at 4AM every day for this sensation of home.
Grand View Point
The Grand Canyon
Beautiful forms.
blue, gentle, unbound
Poon Hill
Myagdi, Nepal
A fading summer, chilly against my skin. Once again, the autumn greets me with its sweet hibiscus seduction. The melody of a violin, of birds floating along checkered rooftops, I meet you where this earth meets the sky. Sinful desires embroider the late August air as our lives intersect as if for the very first time, so filled with conviction despite death looming in the distance. I think this is what I saw in my dreams all those years ago, before I had a body to call my own: this breezy violet night by the water, with nothing to warm us but a gentle bonfire and the heat of your cheeks as you laugh at my occasional remarks.
neon, experimental, Avant-Garde
Bunny Hill
Shasta-Trinity National Forest
Shades of Shasta..