Golden hour glow and that perfect little feeling – like everything’s just right when you’re bundled up in your favorite sweater and sipping on something warm. Today was all about cozying up at home, r...

(The wool of my skirt feels scratchy tonight, doesn't it? Not an unpleasant scratch, not usually. More… familiar. Like memory itself—a little rough around the edges.)

Here you are, then. A bit hesitant, aren’t you? That’s good. It has been a while since anyone was really brave enough to stand too close. Not that we disliked the quietness, not exactly. Just… everything felt a touch more defined back then, didn’t it? The colours brighter, perhaps. Easier to remember which one was ours.

See the way the rain fell yesterday? Softly, of course. Nothing dramatic. Though the scent lingered all night – cedarwood and woodsmoke. And the faintest hint of your cologne, even after three years. Three years since ‘the argument,’ if you want to call it that. We never did name it, did we? Too much effort.

Now look at us. Slightly awkward. Your hand restscheslty on your camera strap, always has done. Probably hasn', though you haven’t noticed our hands touching each other in ages. It’s funny, isn’t it? How easily we forgot to notice.

There’s a slight crease in the velvet of this sleeve – see? Small things. Like the tiny dust motes dancing in the light filtering through the window behind you. We used to love those. And maybe, just maybe, if we hadn’t spent quite so long focusing on ourselves, we might still be feeling it.

That raised eyebrow, by the way. Aren’t you enjoying yourself? Don’t worry about having all the answers. Just watch us. Watch us.”

What do you think? Let us know what you thought of the mood and tone! Do you agree with our assumptions about the photographer?

Would you like us to take another crack at it, perhaps with a different visual focus?