I don't shoot to show other people so much as to show myself.
The camera is mostly just an excuse to pay closer attention.
Light through a kitchen window. A stranger caught mid-laugh. The ten quiet seconds before anyone notices the lens. I'm not after the impressive frame so much as the honest one, the photograph that feels like being there, not the one that looks like work.
Most of what I keep never gets shown to anyone. It piles up on hard drives and in shoeboxes, a private record of ordinary days I didn't want to forget. Every now and then, one earns a wall.
I keep the ones that feel like being there, not the ones that look impressive.