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I have a stable government job. I’m studying psychology. I try to go to the gym three times a week. I attempt to keep up with friends. I complain about the cost of living. It’s a full plate.

Photography lives alongside all of that.

It’s not my grand escape plan. It’s not my “quit my job and move to Europe” fantasy. It’s just something that’s always pulled at me. A parallel version of my life that steers a part of my life quietly in the background. I didn’t pick up a camera at five and declare it my destiny. I actually did a teaching degree (deferred it… a lot), travelled, changed my mind, grew up a bit, and eventually realised I care more about observing life than instructing it.

These days, I mostly photograph nature and landscapes. Light, texture, movement. The way the sky shows off for absolutely no one. It keeps me grounded, sane. I’ve stepped back from photographing people for now. The juggle is very real and I have zero interest in girl-bossing myself into the ground ever again. I’m embracing a softer pace. Displaying my work. Letting it exist without trying to turn it into something bigger than it needs to be. But I still care deeply about connection, preserving moments and, documenting life in a way that feels honest.

If I’m honest, the dream is simple: I want my photos framed on walls. Not buried in camera rolls. Not sitting on hard drives. I want them catching afternoon light in someone’s hallway. I’m a Capricorn, so stability matters to me. Things that last matter to me. Maybe that’s why photography feels right because it holds onto moments we’d otherwise forget.

This season of life is very heads down, bum up. Work. Study. Repeat. But photography reminds me to lift my head.

If you’re human and a bit tired and still trying anyway, we’ll probably get along.