2023, South Africa 

Sometimes, a photograph reveals its meaning long after the shutter clicks.

At first, it felt like a simple moment in the wild: a baby giraffe leaning into its mother, seeking comfort, safety, and quiet reassurance, a mother responding with a gentle, grounding touch. I took the photo instinctively, drawn to the tenderness between them.

Only later did I understand the full weight of this image. A year after it was taken, I returned to the same place with my father. We believed he was in remission, but the cancer had quietly returned. That was our final trip together. I didn’t know it then, but this image would become a touchstone… a quiet reminder that what we love doesn’t truly leave us.

This photograph has become a tribute. To presence. To connection. To the way we seek comfort in one another, whether human or animal. It reminds me that even in grief, there is gentleness. Even in endings, there is love.

‘Always’ lives in these quiet moments. In the spaces where we remember, where we return, where we hold on. It lives in the belief that something meaningful lasts… that love doesn’t leave. It lingers.