When I Stand Alone

The past two months have been quiet for the Theragraphic Project.

Too quiet.

I’ve set the location, prepared myself and opened the door—twice now—with nobody walking in. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t left me feeling a little discouraged. It’s hard to keep showing up when you start wondering if anyone will come at all.

But here’s the thing: I believe in this.

I believe in the power of photography to heal, to give people a way to express what words sometimes can’t. I’ve seen how picking up a camera and focusing on light, texture, and moments can quiet the noise in your head—if only for a while.

One day, someone will meet me for a photo walk who truly needs this.

They might not even know how badly they need it until they pick up the camera, until they see their own thoughts reflected back in the images they create.

That’s why I’m not giving up.

There will be a day when that one person—maybe two, maybe ten—finds the courage or curiosity to come. And when they do, I’ll be here, ready.

Because the Theragraphic Project isn’t just about taking photos. It’s about giving people a safe space to breathe, to notice, to create, and to heal. And if that means I wait a little longer, so be it.

So, I’ll keep showing up.

One day, the right person will too.