Collection Two
Home
Welcome home.
I used to think home was somewhere I would eventually arrive.
Photography quietly changed that. I found it in familiar faces, mountain air, long drives, and ordinary moments that asked nothing of me except to be present. Looking back, home wasn't somewhere I found. It was the quiet feeling of returning to myself.
011
Next Door
Home
What I loved about these doors was the feeling of something tucked away just beyond them. I didn’t need to know what the rooms looked like. I could imagine the feeling of stepping inside.
Outside, everything kept moving. Cars passed, people walked by, and the houses crowded together along the street. And then there was a door—a small boundary between all of that and a place that belonged to someone.
I know that feeling. Coming home, closing the door behind me, and feeling the rest of the world get a little farther away.
I chose Next Door because the two homes looked almost identical at first. But the longer I looked, the more differences I noticed—the doors, the plants, the little signs of the people who lived there. Side by side, but completely their own.
010
Welcome
Home
I don't remember what we talked about that evening or even how long we stayed. What I remember is how the room felt. Warm. Unhurried. Comfortable enough to simply be there.
I've learned that home doesn't always arrive with a grand feeling. Sometimes it begins with the quiet certainty that you're welcome.
I chose Welcome because every place that has ever felt like home first invited me in. This photograph reminds me that sometimes the simplest acts of welcome leave the deepest impression.
009
Always
Home
I've returned here through different seasons of my life, always finding something new to notice. Somewhere along the way, this trail became more than a favorite hike.
It became the place my mind returns to whenever it needs to remember what peace feels like.
The trail has changed, and so have I. Maybe that's why it still feels like home.
I chose Always because some places become more than destinations. Over time, they become quiet companions that continue walking beside us, no matter where life leads.
008
Passing Through
Home
It was only a small stop along the way, the kind of place most people would pass through without a second thought. Looking back, I realize it wasn't the place that mattered most. It was who I was there with—and the ordinary afternoon we almost didn't think to remember.
I chose Passing Through because we thought we were only passing through. Looking back, I realized some of the places that feel most like home are the ones we never planned to remember—they simply stayed with us.
007
Held
Home
There are moments I instinctively reach for my camera because something beautiful is happening. Then there are moments like this. Nothing extraordinary was unfolding. I simply looked at her and realized that one day I would wish I could hold her chin in my hand again.
I've come to believe that home isn't only a place. Sometimes it's a familiar hand, a quiet routine, or the steady presence of someone who's walked beside us for years.
So I made the photograph. Not because I wanted to remember the afternoon, but because I wanted to remember how it felt.
I chose Held because, while my hand is holding Leia, she's been holding me for years. Through difficult days, long seasons, and quiet moments like this one, she's reminded me that love doesn't always need words.
006
Enough
Home
I don't know who lives here, and I probably never will. But something about this little house surrounded by so much open space made everything feel quieter. It reminded me that while I often get caught up in the urgency of my own life, the world continues gently beyond me. Somewhere, someone is making dinner, watching the seasons change, and living a beautifully ordinary life.
Home has a way of changing what feels important. Standing there, I realized I didn't need the moment to be any different than it already was.
I chose Enough because home has a way of putting everything back into perspective. It reminds me that peace isn't found in having more, but in recognizing that this moment—and this life—can already be enough.
005
Reunion
Home
Some places hold pieces of us even while we are away. Coming back reminded me that home can feel less like arriving somewhere new and more like recognizing myself again. The mountains didn't ask me to become someone different. They simply reminded me of who I'd always been.
I chose Reunion because it wasn't just the mountains I was returning to. It felt like being reunited with a part of my soul I'd quietly missed.
004
Haven
Home
When I look back at this photograph, I don't remember where we were nearly as much as I remember how I felt.
Calm. Safe. Completely at ease.
It's easy to overlook ordinary afternoons like this, but they're often the moments we carry with us the longest. Looking back, I realize I wasn't searching for home anymore. I was already standing beside it.
I chose Haven because I've come to believe that a haven isn't a place at all. It's the feeling of finally being able to exhale because you're with someone who makes the world feel a little less heavy.
003
Familiar
Home
The smell of fresh bread immediately brought me back to childhood summers in France with my family. For a few minutes, Vancouver faded into the background, and I found myself remembering a place that helped shape so much of who I am.
It's moments like these that remind me home isn't always where we are—sometimes it's the memories we carry with us.
I chose Familiar because the feeling arrived before I could explain it. I was standing in a bakery in Vancouver, yet for a moment it felt like I'd stepped back into my childhood.
Some places become familiar not because we've been there before, but because they remind us of somewhere we've loved.
002
Return
Home
I had never been to this place before, yet somehow it felt familiar. It reminded me that returning isn't always about going back—sometimes it's about coming back to yourself. Being there with Ross and Leia, I realized I already had everything I needed. Home wasn't behind me or somewhere ahead. It was already with me.
Home isn't always a place. Sometimes it's the version of yourself you rediscover when you're exactly where you're meant to be.
I chose Return because I wasn't returning to a place—I was returning to myself. Even in a place I'd never been, I felt grounded, present, and completely at home.
001
Sigh
Home
Looking back, I realize this photograph wasn't about the lake. It was about the feeling it gave me. In a world that often asks us to keep moving, this place quietly reminded me that peace isn't something we chase—sometimes it's something we stumble upon when we're finally still.
Some places don't ask us to become someone new. They simply remind us who we've been all along.
I chose Sigh because it's the breath we take when we finally let ourselves settle. Home, I've learned, isn't always a place. Sometimes it's simply the feeling of no longer needing to look anywhere else.