For a long time, I believed photography was all about control—controlling light, composition, and those moments that never seem to pause…

or when every moment is captured and none are remembered.

We take more photos now than at any point in history. With our phones, burst mode, live photos, and endless storage, we snap every moment just in case. But then what happens? Most of these images vanish into the black hole of our camera rolls—thousands of pictures we never look at again. We technically “keep” these memories, but we never actually revisit them…

There’s something magical about cities in the rain. The quiet moments when lights stop being lights and turn into colours instead. On dry nights, things are sharp, ordered, obedient. But add a wet windscreen and a slow shutter, and suddenly everything starts to breathe. Shapes begin to melt, headlights start to stretch, and reflections ripple across the pavement. What used to be a street becomes something else entirely. Something that is half real, but still half a dream.

I have been drawn to photography news for a long time, eagerly consuming information about new lenses or next-generation camera sensors. However, a recent revelation has shifted my perspective. The most potent photography tool, one that is not being championed as it should, is within each of us. It's the most incredible and powerful thing we possess. And it's free. I'm referring to the gut—the photography gut, a force to be reckoned with in our creative journey.