FLY
Flying has always been the dream. The daydream, the window seat escape, that feeling of wanting to be weightless and free. But when I was capturing these images, I wasn’t flying—I was just watching, waiting, and taking it all in.
FLY isn’t about how flight works or even about nailing the perfect shot. It’s about being present.
When I first pointed my camera up, I wasn’t chasing a specific image. I was just noticing things—the way the wings carved patterns in the air, how they played with the landscape and the ocean. It all started forming its own rhythm, like the elements were composing something, and my job was just to frame it.
Usually, photography is all about gear, settings, and control. But here? None of that really mattered. The right camera, the perfect lens—those were just tools. This was all about intuition. Watching, sensing, knowing when the patterns would show up and letting them fall into place.
And then, out of nowhere, a little surprise—the solar aura.
It’s not super rare, but rare enough to feel like a gift. A perfect ring of light circling the sun, just hanging there. We were lucky, in the right place at the right time. But honestly, I think you only notice things like that when you’re really paying attention.
That’s what FLY is about. Not the technical stuff, not some deep emotional story—just a reminder to slow down and really look. There’s something almost hypnotic about wings cutting through the wind. And there’s something incredibly calming about just watching it happen.
In the end, I didn’t fly. But for those moments, I didn’t need to. The sky put on a show, and I was just there to take it all in.
