In December 2023, I crossed into Egypt by water with three lenses. Two of them — 55mm and 85mm — I trusted. They gave me distance, allowed me to observe without intruding. The third, a 35mm, I avoided.
It felt too wide, like it revealed more than I wanted to see or be seen.
At the border, security took the lenses I knew. They left me with the one I didn’t. For the next twelve months, it shaped how I framed the world.
At first, everything felt too close. I was forced to approach — people, animals, the life moving around me. I could no longer hide behind space.
But slowly, I began to shift. That lens drew me toward a kind of seeing I wasn’t used to — more immediate, more involved.
I came to sense that observation could also be a form of participation — that sometimes, seeing closely invites a different kind of involvement.
South Sinai, February 2024, with a 35mm vintage lens.
What began as a limitation became a quiet invitation — to come closer, to see differently.
What began as a limitation became a quiet invitation — to come closer, to see differently.