forest makes me photograph.

There's a scene I kept returning to this summer,
a forest mostly in shadow, where sunlight slips through and lands on a patch of green.

These moments slip away in seconds if I hesitate,
caught up in chasing perfect exposure, the ideal composition, the right angle.

That made me realize I was too focused on gear, chemicals, and cryptic texts,
preparing so much, I was missing what was already there:

The scene urging me to just take a photo here.

forest holds photographs.

In the forest, what fills the frame is ordinary foliage. Repeated. Easy to overlook.

Like countless similar photos, already taken and already seen,
making me wonder if anything I could do would still feel new or matter at all.

But sometimes, when the light touches just right, they become singular.
Not original in essence, but original in attention.

Even these familiar images,
I hope one might mean something to someone, someday.

forest becomes photography.

A gap in the canopy lets sunlight pour in like a window.  

A glistening leaf or a blade of grass reflects it back like a mirror.  

Not just metaphor, but something real, something visible.

May these images be mirrors of my own wonder,  
and windows onto that quiet, fleeting light I witnessed.