I move through the streets without a plan, following whatever pulls me in. It’s rarely the spectacular. More often it’s the almost-missed, gone a second later. Nothing is staged. I arrive in the middle of what’s already happening.

My approach is quick, instinctive, shaped by the city’s pace. I’m not here to fix a truth or tell a complete story. I’m after fragments that speak on their own, leaving space for whoever looks to decide what they mean.

The streets never repeat themselves. That’s why I keep walking.