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When Light Forgot to Be Warm

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There are moments when we see something ordinary but it speaks differently. This photo was taken in my office. A light bulb on the ceiling. Nothing unusual, yet something in that instant held me still. The light wasn’t just bright. It wasn’t comforting either. It was… confused. And so was I. I edited this image with dual tones in Lightroom. The glowing bulb was given a cold blue tint—not because the light was cold, but because I felt it that way. It felt distant. Like warmth trying to reach, but failing. Surrounding it, I painted the dark areas with red tones. That red wasn't heat. It was anger. As if the darkness around the bulb was frustrated—angry that it could never fully consume the light The thought that struck me: "When light stays too long in the dark, does it lose its warmth? Or does darkness get angrier knowing it can’t touch it?” This photo is about perception. About how we sometimes change our own meanings of things, just based on emotion. What should h...
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Parallel Paths with unknown destiny

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Sometimes, it’s the still moments that move us the most. The train had just left the station. I stood there for a while, staring the distance, the sound of fading wheels replaced by silence. The sun was kind that day which feels neither sharp nor shy and the tracks before me gleamed as if they had something to say. This photo wasn’t planned. It was a pause. A moment between where I was and where I was headed. But maybe that’s what makes it special and something striked me first line "A frame caught between destinations". Does it mean anything to me ? I was thinking  The story behind the steel Railway tracks are more than a symbol of travel. They are metaphors. Anchored to the earth, yet designed to move. Solid, parallel, yet headed toward an unseen bend. These parallel lines never meet, yet they run side by side till the very end. As I looked through the lens, I didn’t just see rails but I saw choices. Life often places us on tracks, some chosen, some not. At time...
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Rooted Reflections

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The Story Behind the Frame It was one of those evenings where the city felt unusually quiet. The kind of stillness that almost feels staged. I paused, as I often do, not searching for a perfect subject, but rather waiting for the world to whisper something worth noticing. That’s when I looked up and saw it which the harmony I never expected between wild leaves and corporate glass. This frame didn’t scream beauty. It breathed it. The contrast was subtle, but telling. In the foreground, a cluster of sharp, raw leaves — untamed, unpolished, alive. Behind them, an orderly glass and steel, each pane reflecting a sky that refused to be just one color. The building reached up, but the plants, in their stillness, stood taller in truth. I saw ambition and grounding in the same moment. The plants were not just decoration in front of a skyscraper but they were a reminder that growth doesn’t always rise. Sometimes, it spreads. Sometimes, it stays still. And sometimes, it frames the wor...
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