It all started in 2014 -- A cursed year, if you ask me -- with a battered Nikon F2 and the sort of naive ambition that makes a man dangerous. I wasnt just taking pictures. No, i was stealing moments, ripping truth straight from the jaws of time, jamming it onto rolls of film and selling it back to the world with a wink and a middle finger.

The streets were my studio, the lights my co-conspirator. I learned to shoot in hostile territory — weddings, protests, back-alley jazz clubs thick with sweat and smoke and the distant smell of failure. I shot fast, dirty, and without permission. No rules. Just raw instinct and caffeine shakes. Every frame a gamble. Every shutter click a tiny explosion of intent.

Ive hunted like it owed me money. Chased golden hour through the desert like a rabid dog on the trail of god. I’ve shot from moving cars, rooftops, dance floors, and one regrettable hot-air balloon. focus was a myth. Clarity, a hallucination. but the stories were real — jagged and beautiful, soaked in grain and shadow

Now the camera is the extension of my nervous system. I don’t just document — I bear witness. I don’t compose — I react. you want safe, sterile soul-less pictures? Or do you want the bleeding truth?