Two words that proved so tricky for me while I was growing up in a small town of Northern Greece as I can’t really recall a time that I was sure what to do with my life.

The whole time though photography felt like my only constant. At first it was just a hobby, a distraction from the everyday struggle, a way to top myself by becoming better and better at something, as time passed by. Eventually it grew so much on me that it came out bursting in spite of everything.

So I won’t say that I turned my hobby into my profession, I much prefer to think of it as a journey. I turned my hobby into the most beautiful journey. I am a tourist of people’s lives. I visit them during their most cordial moments, take photos of them and leave, hoping that the photos will stay for years and serve as future actual reminders of true love.

Still in the same small town, but now with a big as ever desire to travel around both in the literal and the romantic meaning.

This is the diary of my “travels”