There’s a strange, quiet ache that comes with growing older. It creeps in softly, first in the absence of a familiar laugh at a family gathering, then in the gap on the end of a group photo where someone used to stand.
Over the years, I’ve watched people I love slowly fade away. Some were taken too soon, while others passed away by the natural order of life. And through it all, I’ve come to realise that photography, for me, has never been about perfection or portfolios. It’s about presence. It's about holding on.
