I’m Nicholas. I tend to take the long way round — on the road, with decisions, and in conversations I care about.
 

Most days are split between narrow lanes that may or may not be real roads, a kettle that’s almost always on, a fountain pen that refuses to die, a camera pointed at things nobody commissioned, and curated playlists quietly keeping score in the background.

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I grew up in the version of the world where you could go a whole day without being reachable, carry a joke around until you got home, and lose people without a public statement. That stuck. I pay attention to the small, ordinary details other people scroll past: the pause before you answer a “How are you, really?”, the way someone laughs after the joke lands, the song you meant to skip but didn’t, the messages that almost became something and didn’t.
 

I don’t have social media or a TV, and I don’t tend to have the radio on just for noise. It’s not that I’m above it; I just know a lot of it is designed to keep you half-listening — dramatic headlines, throwaway scandals, and goldfish apparently trading stocks. I’d rather give my attention to fewer things that actually leave a mark.
 

The things I make — photographs, essays, the odd half-finished idea — circle the same themes: what we keep, what we let go, and the quiet weight of the moments no one is performing for a camera. I’m interested in people who feel slightly out of step with the noise and suspect their best memories live off-screen.
 

I’m not here to build a brand or overshare my way into being interesting. A few honest lines and a handful of images will have to do.

I’m not blind.
I just don’t always develop the negatives.

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See Chez Moi blog post for the full version.