LOVE AT FIRST PHOTO

It wasn’t love at first sight.

Not with a person—although that would’ve been a much juicier story—but with a city. New York. And with a sunset that had no idea it was about to ruin my life in the best possible way.

I was there with my dad and my brother. A “classic tourist” trip: sightseeing, bagels, maybe a Broadway show if we didn’t fall asleep halfway. Except it turned into something else entirely—the starting line of everything I do today.

At the time, I wasn’t “the photographer.” Far from it. I was more like… the photographer’s assistant’s assistant. My dad had me tagging along for his real estate company. Honestly? No kid grows up dreaming of taking pictures of beige living rooms with suspicious carpet stains. For me, it was just a side quest: earn some money, pay for weekend adventures, and try to master drone flying without turning every tree in the neighbourhood into modern art. (Spoiler: the trees always won.)

But then came September 22, 2017. Day one or two of the trip—we’re walking down some random avenue at golden hour. I look up and think: “That looks… kinda aesthetic. Maybe I should take a photo.”

So I do. With my trusty iPhone 6. A phone that was already outdated when I bought it, already complaining about storage space, and already holding 200 memes I thought were “timeless classics.” And yet… click. That was it. My first love. My first spark.

From that moment on, the city looked different. Or maybe I was the one looking different—through the lens of a cracked screen and a 12-megapixel camera that thought “portrait mode” was science fiction. Still, New York came alive: the chaos, the rhythm, the light bouncing off skyscrapers. It felt like the city was winking at me, daring me to keep shooting.

I only took a handful of photos—storage space strikes again—but each one feels like the roots of a tree I didn’t know I was planting. The beginning of a habit, a way of seeing.

Of course, I was way too shy to capture the real madness: skateboarders flying over garbage trucks, strangers hailing yellow cabs like they were extras in a Scorsese film, that golden light dripping down the avenues like honey. Back then, I’d think: “Eh, nobody cares about that.”

Now? I know better. That’s exactly what everyone cares about. That’s New York.

I haven’t been back since. But I owe that city a thank you—for giving me my first spark, for pointing me toward photography, and for reminding me that sometimes the smallest click can shift the entire direction of your life.

So yeah. Happy anniversary to my first love.

22/9/2017 → 22/9/2025.

See you soon, New York.