My fascination with the wind began in infancy—an image so early, it feels like the birthplace of memory itself. My vision was filled with washes of green light, gently partitioned by a golden glow—soft and radiant, like silk or silken tofu, slicing the green into pieces. I must have been lying on my back in a stroller, my mother pushing me along a tree-lined path long since lost to memory. The green and gold floated by, slowly, like a kaleidoscope melting into motion.

And then, something invisible parted the colors. The green and gold scattered and merged again, like a startled school of fish. Beneath it all, I lay submerged in wonder—What is this? And—is that a sound?

In the next moment, something brushed against my skin—not my mother’s hand, but something gentler still. It was as though an unseen palm hovered above my cheek, imperceptible but everywhere, stirring not only the fine hairs on my skin, but something deeper. In that new, untouched body, I began to feel the presence of an “outside world.”

That feeling was miraculous. Along with the trees and the sunlight, it became my very first memory—the moment I arrived in this world.

As I grew, the wind seemed to course through every vein in my body. Whether shaped by all the meanings humans have cast upon it, or in its most primal, untamed form, my love for it only deepened. I have never turned away.

This series of photographs was taken in England, in 2021. It was dusk. The wind slipped through branches tinged with cold light, gently swaying them into shades of warm amber. In their trembling silhouettes, the world seemed to sink beneath a liquid surface. The dark trunks appeared like strange, colossal beasts dipping just below.

You encountered them unexpectedly. But neither of you startled. It was only the wind, linking your paths for a moment. Before any greeting could pass between you, before your noses could brush in silent recognition, you were already drifting apart, each returning to your own orbit—two intersecting lines, gliding past.

And you know—

the night is coming.