your hand touching mine. this is how galaxies collide. ― Sanober Khan

your hand
touching mine.
this is how
― Sanober Khan

there is a shift

There is a shift in the way I have been seeing lately. It’s a sight that, I believe, has been there the whole time but has finally worked its way to the foreground of my faculty. It asks more explicit questions and is seeking for what is already there.


I am spit and froth and gentle words to cradle you by;

I am tall spine and fingers pinching lips; 

I am silent reactions and budding ownership of life;

and with my open mouth, I will swallow my history;

with one giant smack.

the death of ego

I hold the world in my head - my heart in my belly;

and when I walk around, I now realize I am nothing. Which is everything -

….there is beauty in nothing.

But do not worry, my friend

this is not a suicide note; because -

I no longer need to smile at strangers when they pass me by.

For you see;

I am, finally


A small poem on process

I have a lot of feelings. How can photographs so accurately and succinctly express the undulating swell that is even one human experience and their feelings; this expanse that, when comes to mind, you can only picture a cross-section of water and air, as if in a tank of glass, but that stretches on eternal. How do you express that the smallest things brush you like atomic bombs and that the rain smells sweetest when it is warm?


It is not the photograph I take but the photograph I choose that holds the honey.