This black-and-white photo series I made in Hawaii is, above all, about the overwhelming power of nature — its vastness, resilience, and quiet authority — contrasted with the smallness and futility of human intervention. When I look at these images, I see how easily the natural world absorbs the traces of our presence, how effortlessly it erases our attempts to shape or contain it. The man-made elements — the road, the cables, the bent guardrail — appear fragile, almost absurd against the immensity of the living landscape that surrounds them.

By photographing in black and white, I wanted to strip the scene of color and sentimentality, to show nature not as decoration or paradise, but as a force beyond us — ancient, patient, and indifferent. The tropical vegetation seems to surge and breathe, expanding into every space, as if reminding us that our constructions are temporary gestures in a much older, deeper rhythm.

For me, this series is a meditation on humility. It reveals how limited our control truly is, how quickly the wild reclaims what we build. The human world is fleeting, made of thin lines and fragile metal, while nature endures — vast, silent, and eternal. In the end, these photographs are not about loss, but about balance: a recognition that no matter how far we reach, it is the earth that remains.