The Dark Room

People are afraid of the dark. They think it’s just an empty space where monsters hide. But photographers know better. The dark isn't empty; it’s necessary. You can capture a thousand images in the sunlight, but you can only make them real in the dark room.

After the speed of the university years and the confusion of the void, I finally crashed. I had to step into the red light.

The Dark Room is the place where you sit with your negatives. And I had a lot of them. I had to look at the 'inverted' versions of my memories—the moments where I was selfish, the times I ran away, the relationships I let fade. It’s a chemical process. It burns a little. It smells like regret and acid. You have to submerge yourself in the feeling and just… wait.

I realized that I couldn't just 'edit' my life on the fly anymore. I had to let the pain do its work. I had to let the loneliness develop me into something solid.

For a long time, I thought the darkness was a punishment. But now I see it was a studio. It was the only place quiet enough for the real picture to finally appear. The image isn't blurry anymore. It’s sharp. It’s painful. But it’s real.

And now? It’s time to turn on the lights.