It took me over thirty years to realize I was born to be an artist—to share my inner world with the outer world. After years of hiding my sensitivity to survive a volatile childhood, photography became my platform to express deep-rooted emotions locked away for too long. Sometimes our greatest pain becomes our most powerful creative fuel.

As I walk along the dusty track, I pass by many of the wicked and wild trees that have been decorating this small corner of the Gwydir Forest for a century or more. There are a handful of oaks but the majority of them here are silver birch trees that love these damp upland moorland environments. I’m just a tiny speck of dust beneath most of the trees, and, despite my hair being a little thinner in some places than it once was, one glance at their weathering bark makes me appreciate my youth. The young should respect their elders, so I pause for a moment to think about how little I know, and how much I still have yet to learn from them.