Something about February — the light starts coming back but everything still feels quiet. In between.
Second month. I keep returning to the same places to see if they've changed. They haven't. I have.
New year, same city. The streets after midnight, when the cold keeps everyone else inside.
October light does something to surfaces. Everything looks like it's remembering something.
End of summer. The kind of afternoon that already feels like a memory while it's happening.
June. The city in its best mood — warm and a little careless.
Spring arrived quietly. One day the trees were bare and then they weren't.
Two versions of the same walk. I always take pictures of the same things and pretend I don't notice.
March means the year finally starts. Everything provisional until now suddenly feels real.
Winter still. But a different kind — the kind you almost like.
December is the quietest month if you let it be.
October again. I think this is my month.
August heat. Everything slowed down. I didn't mind.
The kind of afternoon that disappears before you can name it.
June again, somehow. The year accelerating.
May light is the best light. I will die on this hill.
Cold and clear. My breath visible. The city surprisingly empty.
A corner I'd passed a hundred times and never really looked at.
Autumn. Someone took this one. I'm not used to being on the other side.
Same season, different angle. Looking for something I couldn't name.
Late summer. Everything full and just beginning to tip over.
July. Heat and slowness. Nowhere to be.
June evening, the long kind. Light until ten.
The same week, different mood. June contains multitudes.
May again. Something about that month — it keeps giving.
Found this by accident. Some days the city cooperates.
Three photos from the same afternoon. This was the one.
Still May. Still looking.
March feels like an argument the year hasn't settled yet.
The last month. Everything winding down and somehow still beautiful.
November is underrated. I've said this before. I'll say it again.
Summer peak. The city at full volume.
Something about this one I can't explain. I just had to take it.
Emerging from something. The first walks where the air smelled different.
Autumn 2020. Everything strange, but the light was the same.
A summer that existed in its own strange parentheses.
May. The world very quiet. I walked more than I ever had.
Early. The beginning of learning to see differently.
The last December before everything changed. I didn't know that yet.
Where it started, maybe. Or close enough.
No date. Some things don't need one.