Back to the Lens

I fell in love with portraits in 2018—right after coming home from four years of active duty. Photography became my way of breathing again. A quiet ritual to help me navigate the weight of returning to everyday life.

My first camera was an iPhone X. It wasn’t fancy, but it gave me a frame—a way to hold onto what mattered. I shot. I edited. I healed.

But in 2021, after the passing of my cousin, that flame died.
The camera stayed in the bag. My passion disappeared.
I disconnected—from photography, from the world. I started focusing more on my personal life, on my mental health, trying to piece myself back together.

Fast forward to late 2024—early 2025. I decided to sell my Nikon Z6II for something smaller. Compact. Intentional. Just enough to capture everyday moments with my kids, my family. Something to keep the ember glowing, even if the fire wasn’t roaring.

Then an idea surfaced:
“After 15 years, I’ll return to Puerto Rico.”
A place I knew as a child. A home. A peace I once held in my hands.

I rented the Leica Q3 43 for the trip. No big plans. No photo agenda. Just vibes. But the moment I landed and pulled that camera out of my bag…
something sparked.

I fell back in love.

But it wasn’t portraits this time. It was street photography—the art of capturing life as it unfolds: unscripted, emotional, everyday scenes. Truth with no warning. Rhythm without permission.

I walked the beaches. The side streets. The back roads of the island I once called home. And I told its story—not through posed smiles, but through spontaneous honesty.

When I came back home, I couldn’t stop. I dove deep into everything street photography had to offer. I started studying the craft, the greats, the storytelling behind each frame. But the deeper I went, the more I noticed something:

Everyone was documenting North America. Europe. Asia. Mexico.

No one was telling the stories of the Caribbean.
Not like this.

It was like the world didn’t see us. Didn’t think we had streets worth shooting. Stories worth capturing.

And I kept asking myself—why?

Then one day, a friend jokingly called me “The King of the Caribbean.”
And something clicked.

Why not me?

Why not tell the story of the Caribbean through my lens—country by country, island by island, over 15 years or however long it takes?

Whether I’m reviewing cameras, exploring cities, or capturing elders in doorways and children in markets… I want the world to see that this region is alive, complex, diverse, and deeply human.

Each island has its own rhythm. Its own spirit. Its own way of holding memory.

This is how I want to unify the Caribbean—through the Arts, through image, through truth.

This is the journey.
The story I’ve been called to tell.
And it starts now.

Hopefully… it never truly ends.