For as long as I can remember, the smallest details of life have stood out to me.

As a child, I noticed what others often missed—like the time I spotted a cluster of newborn fish in our family’s fish tank, each one barely visible, though brimming with life.

Yet sometimes, my attention to detail felt like a curse. I not only noticed small wonders; I also scrutinized myself. Decisions would cause me great grief. I’d fixate, overthink, and struggle to let go. I felt trapped in my own mind. The more I searched for answers in my head, the more stuck I became.

But slowly, I learned another way: to return to the body, to the senses, to presence. I began to experience the world not as something to solve, but something to feel. To accept myself as human. I began to venture out of my head and experience life through my physical senses.

That shift changed everything.

Now, the same sensitivity that once paralyzed me with self-doubt has become the lens through which I create. With this in mind, I aim to capture and share small glimmers of beauty as I notice them. I gather and offer my observations—so others, too, might pause, notice, and remember what beauty lives in the details.

In this way, I seek to remind myself—and others—to bask in the sun, and in the rain too. To dance when there is music, and also when there is silence. And to seek out the wonders in life, even in the most unexpected places.