I remember the first time I was lured into a theater by the siren call of stunning cinematography. There I…
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I remember the first time I was lured into a theater by the siren call of stunning cinematography. There I…
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I still remember the first time I took a deep dive into the world of typography. It was like opening…
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I once tried to pencil “work-life balance” into my calendar—right between a client meeting in a cramped café and a…
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I remember the first time I decided to edit a video without spending a dime. It was fueled by a…
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I once decided to paint an old chair—a relic from some forgotten family member that had been haunting my apartment…
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I once blew half a month’s rent on a lens because some well-meaning salesperson convinced me it was “essential” for…
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Macrame. The word alone conjures images of dusty, forgotten crafts from the ’70s, but here I am, tangled in yards…
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I’ll admit it: my apartment is a shrine to glass jars. They’re everywhere. Perched on shelves, lurking in cupboards, and,…
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