I photograph people on the street, but I’m less interested in clever compositions than in what happens when two strangers acknowledge each other. I don’t want to be a hidden observer, stealing images without my subjects’ awareness. What matters to me are the glances exchanged when I raise the camera openly — moments of curiosity, hesitation, play, or desire. These small recognitions, brief as they are, carry a charge: a spark of trust that turns an ordinary passing into a fleeting sense of relation.

Of course, not everyone wants to be photographed — and I can’t photograph everyone. That’s part of it. No kids, no one in distress, and I raise the camera to my eye only if they meet my gaze and I sense their trust. What emerges, then, are images that reflect openness, respect, and connection — each shaped by who I am, and how I relate to others in society. They seek moments of coexistence: of seeing and being seen, of desiring and being desired, in a world where we so often feel invisible or insignificant.