There are photographers who document weddings. And there are those who understand that some days deserve more than documentation.

I belong to the second kind. I came to photography the way most important things arrive — unexpectedly.

My son was born, I picked up a camera, and discovered I could see things most people walk past. The light three minutes before it disappears. The expression just before an emotion surfaces. The way a landscape holds a person —or breaks them open.

That eye never turned off.

For couples who celebrate with the ones they love most — stone villas, candlelight, long tables above the Adriatic —I move through your day like a shadow. Unhurried. Invisible. Catching what's real in the space between the moments you planned. For couples who choose the wild —a cliff at dawn, a mountain in fog, the landscape as the only witness —I work like a cinematographer.

Studying light. Finding the place where you and the world stop being separate things.

Two entirely different days.

One eye that knows exactly what to look for in both. I work with a small number of couples each year. Because photographs are the only thing from your wedding day that doesn't end when the night does. They're what you reach for on the hardest days. What you show your children. What hangs on every wall of every home you'll ever live in.

That deserves someone who shows up with everything they have.