120mm | The Space Between

Lately, I’ve been drawn to the idea of shooting film—something ephemeral, mechanical, analog. I think I’ve been craving a way to slow down, to feel something real again. There’s been a lot of change in my life, and somewhere in between it all, a kind of grief and fog settled in. I can’t say I’ve fully found my way through it, but I’ve realized that to stay grounded, I need something I can hold, something that resists the noise.

Maybe that’s what this Bronica is for me. Its weight in my hands, the click of the shutter, the limits it imposes—all of it forces me to pay attention. To really be there. I’ve started to notice that trying to quiet my sensitivity never did me any good, but learning to work with it—to guide it—does.

Shooting film has become one small way to do that. To make sense of what’s passing through. Maybe, in the end, it’s just me trying to see clearly again. Maybe it’s just a long drive I’m still on— but allowing me to look in the rear view. If you’re reading this, maybe you’re somewhere on that road too.