Into The White Silence

I remember that morning — somewhere deep in the Altai, halfway through October, when autumn suddenly gave way to winter. The land didn’t transition; it transformed. Overnight, everything was covered in white. Pines wore frost like old armour. The ground crackled beneath each step. My breath froze before I could speak.
Two weeks in, after crossing ridges and valleys that barely appeared on any map, I found myself here — camera in hand, fingers stiff with cold, fumbling to adjust the focus while my body quietly protested. — only a cold, haunting stillness. And yet, it was perfect.
Ten years behind the lens, and still I feel like a beginner every time I enter a place like this — raw, remote, untouched. There’s something about the Altai region that humbles you. It strips you of noise. It teaches you to wait, to listen.





That’s what photography has always been for me: the act of noticing.
Of witnessing the in-between.
Of telling stories where words fall short.











