Everyday life as sensitive material

I don’t search for grand events.
I look for what happens every day.

A cup left on the table.
An open window letting morning light in.
Late afternoon stretching across the room.

The everyday carries a quiet beauty.
It doesn’t demand attention.
It waits.

Photographing these moments is an act of resistance.
Against speed.
Against forgetting.

Photography turns ordinary moments into memory.
And memory into something that lasts.

Perhaps that is what poetry has always done.