Touching a world that isn’t yours. Just close enough to feel, never close enough to live.

It looks close enough to touch. A perfect, quiet life, warm sand, slow breeze, water so still it barely whispers. But it’s not mine. I’m on the other side of the glass, hand pressed against a version of the world I’ll never enter. A mirage of normal. A dream someone else is living. Sometimes I wonder if they can see me too, or if I’m just a shadow fading against the window.

 

Location: Home, Dubai 

Two bubbles. Two moments. One ordinary hallway turned into a funhouse mirror. Laundry day got weird, just the way we like it.

Some days feel like the world threw you into a washing machine: spinning, disoriented, but strangely amused.

This wasn’t supposed to be a photo shoot. We just caught our reflections in the curved glass of a laundry machine. And then another. Two bubbles. Two moments. Same energy caught in a strange loop, having way too much fun with it.
Funny how even the most ordinary places can twist reality into something a little more surreal. The hallway stretched like a tunnel. Our shapes warped and danced. Suddenly, the most mundane object became a portal to another version of us.
Maybe we all need these weird, in-between days.
The ones that don’t mean much, but remind us not to take ourselves too seriously.
Let the cycle spin. Step inside the distortion.
You never know what version of you is waiting on the other side.

 

Location: Home, Dubai 

Sun therapy, ocean anxiety.

Imagine dragging a cat to the beach. That’s me. The sun is fine, the towel is fine, even the snacks are fine… but then comes the water. Waves rushing in like they own the place, the pool staring at me like a liquid abyss. Nope. Not happening.
Some people feel alive by diving headfirst into the sea. I, on the other hand, feel alive by staying very far away from it. Sand between my toes? Maybe. Saltwater on my fur? Never.
So yes, you’ll find me at the beach - but perched on the safest dry spot I can find, glaring at the ocean like it owes me money.

 

Location: Home, Dubai 

Some places shine like dreams. But dreams have no weight.

There are places that gleam. Surfaces polished to perfection, skies that seem always blue, walls of glass catching the light just right. At first, it’s beautiful, too beautiful to question.
But then the days pass, the silence stretches, the shine stops reaching you.
You begin to notice how sealed everything feels, how carefully insulated. Like life has been smoothed over, tucked behind a glossy filter, curated, contained. A world designed to keep the outside out.
Inside the bubble, nothing spills, time softens, edges blur. Even discomfort feels distant, like something happening to someone else, somewhere else.
And you wonder:
What is this life that glows but doesn’t breathe? What happens when the bubble holds you too long?
Not every illusion shatters with a sound. Some dissolve slowly: the way heat fades, or a dream slips away when you wake.

 

Location: Home, Dubai.

 

Letting the warmth stay a little longer.

At the bottom of the cup, a small silence. Not emptiness exactly, just that soft pause that follows something warm.
Some mornings are loud with thought. Others begin like this: steam in the air, light curling through glass,
a taste that doesn’t rush to leave your tongue.
There’s nothing extraordinary about it. And maybe that’s the point.
Not everything needs to be meaningful. Some things just need to be felt, held in the palm, sipped slowly,
and allowed to pass.

 

Location: Home, Dubai 

A flash of red, caught between glass and morning.

Some mornings feel like this. A  flash of red. Heat behind your eyes. The sense that even your glasses are burning.
It’s funny how the most ordinary things can flare up like signals.
A pair of glasses. A blur of heat. A quiet warning.
Some days, vision feels more like exposure. You’re not seeing clearly, you’re being seen through.
Everything looks too sharp, too loud, too alive.
And you wonder: is the world on fire?
Or is it just you?

 

Location: Home, Dubai 

Even beauty can burn.

It looks like a postcard. A castle on the horizon, a hot-air balloon suspended like a toy in the sky.
The sea glazed in green and silver, like it’s dreaming of being glass.
But none of that tells the truth. Because some days, even beauty can feel heavy, even the sea can't cool you, even the light feels sharp.
It looks like paradise. But some days, even paradise feels like a furnace.
This isn’t about the beach. It’s about perception. It’s a reminder that what you see isn’t always what you feel.
And what you show isn’t always what you mean.

 

Location: Home, Dubai 

A reflection warped by design. Just another day at the mall.

You walk into a mall to consume. Not to think. Not to see yourself.
But then - in the polished curve of some metal fixture - there you are.
Distorted. Duplicated. Bent out of shape.
You didn’t come here for reflection. But sometimes, even the most artificial places hold up a mirror.
Shopping malls are designed to multiply things: products, choices, distractions.
They stretch your desires, echo your needs back to you until you forget what they were in the first place.
And sometimes, in between stores, you catch a warped glimpse of what this system is doing to you, too.
Not a crisis. Just… a moment.
It doesn’t even register as unusual.
It’s not a revelation.
It’s just another day at the mall.
Not profound.
Just ordinary.
And that might be the scariest part.

 

Location: Dubai Hills Mall, Dubai

Something lingered in the corner of the room. And of me.

There are summers that invite you outside and there are summers that trap you in.

Some days, you don’t leave the house. Some days, the house doesn’t leave you.

My figure at the edge of light. My hand raised without reason. Dust, silence, stillness: all of it captured in a breath of reflection.

Sometimes, the quiet holds more than you expect. A presence. A pause. Something waiting in the mirror, not to scare you, but to ask if you’ve really been looking.

 

Location: Home, Dubai. 

A circle of messages orbiting a quiet sun. Who’s in your constellation?

From afar, it looks like chaos orbiting a light. But look closer. Each floating piece is a voice, a thought, a quiet trace of someone who crossed your path. A constellation of messages, of people. Who surrounds your light?

 

Location: Home, Portugal 

Lips. Light. A trick of the eye.

It wasn’t planned, exactly, just a moment of light and shape aligning.
I was experimenting, placing familiar objects under unfamiliar angles. And suddenly, there it was: a face I didn’t expect. Lips parted, frozen mid-breath. A cigarette caught in time, glowing with no flame.

I didn’t go looking for this image. I set the stage, and let it happen.
Photography — and life — can work like that.
Sometimes it’s not about control, but attention.
The moment appears when you’re open to seeing it.

We live surrounded by mirrors that aren’t made of glass.
Anything reflective can hold a piece of you: a surface, a shadow, a screen, a joke gone strange.

And sometimes, those surfaces whisper back.

 

Location: Home, Portugal 

Cheers from the other side of the glass. Who’s watching who?

Some things are only fun until you look too closely.
From a distance, it’s color, celebration, cartoon smiles. But press your face against the surface and everything warps.

Maybe it’s just the glass.
Maybe it’s always been like this.

 

Location: Home, Portugal

Every step is a choice. Some are light, some heavy, all leave a mark.

What shoe to pick? What choice to make? Some decisions feel small — like laces and colors — but their impact can follow us for miles. The wrong shoes can eat your feet alive, just as a wrong choice can leave scars you carry for years. Yet even regrets are part of the journey. Sometimes, the obstacles, the blisters, and the detours are exactly what push us to where we need to be. Choices are everywhere, shaping paths we can’t always see. Step carefully, but remember: even the painful steps still move you forward.

  

Location: Home, Portugal.

Sometimes ahead, sometimes behind. Always there.

Light doesn’t just illuminate, it creates. Every step under the sun casts a reminder that we are never alone. Our shadows stretch, distort, disappear, and return, but they never truly leave us.

Sometimes they follow quietly behind. Sometimes they walk ahead, larger than life. And sometimes, they merge so closely with us that we forget they’re even there.

We walk with our shadows. They hold the parts of us we don’t always see, the fragments we leave behind, and the pieces we’re still learning to embrace.

 

Location: Home, Portugal.

Reflected, distorted, and layered. A reminder that even self-portraits are never just one thing.

A self-portrait, but not a simple one.

Who am I, really? Am I only who I think I am, or who others believe me to be? Am I the version I see in the mirror, or the version reflected through someone else’s eyes?

Sometimes it’s hard to just be yourself, especially when there are so many selves to carry. Layers, distortions, fragments. None of them false, but none of them whole on their own.

This frame is a reminder: we are never just one thing.

Location: Home, Portugal 

A reminder that even the simplest view holds more than one layer.

What looks obvious at first often hides another dimension, another point of view waiting if you’re willing to look closer.

This is the first frame of the project, and already it feels like a statement: to slow down, to see differently, and to notice what usually slips by.

 

Location: Home, Portugal.