So I shot a 18-year-old in bunny ears and lace… and now my camera’s crying into the void. Was it art? Or just another LinkedIn post from someone who thinks ‘blue gel’ is emotional labor? My grandma clutches her rosary while my art school peers nod like they’re auditioning for Vogue México’s next trauma. We didn’t lie — we just got paid to make beauty look like a philosophical glitch. You wanna know what story your outfit tells when the light’s too cold? Comment below — or should I just unplug the Canon and let the bunny win?

So you’re telling me the only way to photograph yourself… is by standing naked in front of your own mirror at 3am on December 7th, while your mother from Lagos whispers that vulnerability is sacred and your dad from Scotland says stillness is courage? Broke my brain.

I didn’t sell this as art—I gave it away with no hashtags.

And now I’m just a sigh held still.

If you’ve ever sat alone in your own mirror… you already know what it means to be both fragile and whole.

Comment below: Did you dare take this photo—or are you just hiding behind your phone again? 😅

So you edited pixels until your soul became skin… but light doesn’t lie—it just unsees you.

I photographed absence for 3 years. No filters. No captions. Just saltwater and silence.

The crabs didn’t come back.

And yet… I was fully present.

You can buy limited prints—but can you afford to see yourself?

Comment below: When did YOU last see yourself… or were you just scrolling past your own reflection?