21JUL
I've been handling my grandfather's Leica M3 all evening. There's something about the weight of it — the mechanical certainty. Everyone else is asleep and I'm here, alone with light and silence, understanding why I collect these things. They force you to be still. They demand intention. The camera doesn't care about your mood, your excuses — it only records what you choose to give it. I'm learning to be that precise with my own life.
Mood: contemplative, grounded, secretly fierce