A Lover's Bench And Moments on Film

The storm last night tore through the forest—trees uprooted, power lines down, roads swallowed by floods.

This morning, on my walk, I came across an untamed path, winding through the aftermath. Hidden among the trees, as if forgotten, was a solitary bench.

Its edges were covered in engravings—names enclosed in hearts, love stories traced into the wood.

One carving caught my eye: Joey = happiness.

I don’t know who Joey is, but I imagined someone in love, smiling at the sight of those words.

I sat there for a while, watching the waves, the wind howling until my ears ached and my hands were numb.

Some places in nature feel inherently safe. A simple bench, placed here by someone, at some point in time, has likely given countless strangers a place to rest, to breathe, to just be.

To let the waves carry their worries away.

To whisper their secrets and fears into the wind, where the rustling leaves and swaying grasses would listen without judgment.

To sit in stillness.

I don’t know if I could find my way back to it if I tried.

But I trust that if I do, it will be when I am meant to—when I truly need it.

Below are moments from the last two weeks—captured on film, now developed. Some stormy, rain-soaked days. Some drenched in sun. A sunset walk that came out overexposed, soft and dreamlike—perfectly, appropriately so.