Trapped in a tower at work, looking out over the city.
The view reminds me how far away being outside can feel.

Trapped in a tower at work, looking out over the city.
The view reminds me how far away being outside can feel.

A grey heron stands motionless in the reeds, its reflection barely disturbed.
Stillness, patience, and balance—sometimes the photograph is already waiting.

As i work on seeing the world through a lens again, i am always looking for interesting light.

As the morning light comes through our living room window, it reflects off of the tile floor and makes a strange camera obscura effect on the wall. My daughter creeps into the scene to make this serial, magical moment.

A cormorant pauses after the dive, wings spread—not to fly, but to dry. It’s a practical moment that often looks dramatic, but it’s really about patience.

This image is a reminder that not every moment is about action.
Some are about recovery, stillness, and waiting before the next dive.

On my ride into Nice this morning, I stopped for this. Two gulls on a pebble beach, the sea glowing under a layered sunrise. Nothing rare, nothing dramatic, just a quiet moment unfolding as the day began.

In a shallow winter puddle, a single leaf was trapped in ice. At first glance, nothing remarkable. But up close, the scene changed. Warm browns pressed against cold blues, leaf veins echoed frozen fractures, and the ice held the memory of moving water.