Ten months ago, when I first moved from India to Ireland, I carried more than just my luggage; what I brought along with me was my camera, a curious eye, and a heart open to change. I arrived with awareness that I was stepping into a different pace of life, a new rhythm of everyday care, community, and place. What I didn’t expect was how profoundly this experience would shape my perspective on the world—and how I photograph it.

Life in Ireland’s cities is full of motion and emotion. In the first few weeks, I found myself drawn to the buzz of urban life: street performers, morning rushes, the clinking of coffee cups in busy cafes, and the quiet kindness in fleeting gestures—someone helping a stranger with directions or a brief smile exchanged at a bus stop. Through my lens, the city feels alive, not just with activity but also with the subtle expressions of care that often go unnoticed. I began documenting everyday moments: street crossings, bus stops, graffiti walls, and even the long queues outside food trucks, each of which carries stories of how people move through the city together. These were not grand scenes, but they tell stories of belonging, community, and resilience.

In contrast to the lively rhythm of the city, Ireland’s countryside invited me into a world of stillness. It did not demand any attention – it gently offered it. The first time I stepped into the rural landscape, I was struck not by what I saw, but by what I hadn’t heard earlier. No horns, no hurry, no background noise – just wind brushing through tall grass, the distant bleating of sheep, and the occasional rustle of a bird taking flight. Walking down the narrow county lanes lined with stone walls and wildflowers, I felt time slow down. Each step became a moment to observe – not just the lane, but myself within it. I would often stop to photograph details that might seem ordinary to others: an abandoned chair sitting alone in a field, laundry fluttering in the breeze. These quiet elements held stories of life lived gently, and care rooted in place.

The rural places here reminded me deeply of parts of home in India. Not just in landscape, but in how care reveals itself through presence, patience, and rhythm. In the countryside, care doesn’t always announce itself. It shows up in the way the land is tended, how animals are watched over. It’s a way of being that values observation, coexistence, and trust in small rituals. Through photography, I began to tune into this kind of care, one that is attentive but not intrusive. Each photo felt like a quiet exchange between me and the place, a way of saying: I see you. I am listening.

These rural moments became a grounding force in my journey. They helped me reflect, rest, and reconnect with why I started photographing in the first place – to witness life as it unfolds, gently and honestly.

Over time, photography has become more than just a creative outlet for me – it has become a way of relating to the world. As both a photographer and a researcher, I have come to realise that what I do is deeply relational. It’s not only about capturing beautiful images, but about being present, being attentive, and being open to the quite ways people live, move, and care. Taking photographs in Ireland has taught me to pay attention to the soft, often unnoticed rhythms of everyday life, the tenderness in a passerby offering directions to a tourist, or the stillness of someone sitting alone on a beach, simply soaking in the last light of the day. These aren’t grand, dramatic scenes. But to me, they are filled with meaning – because they hold traces of care.

Living here has deepened my understanding of care itself – I now see it not only as a feeling or action, but as something shaped by place. Care exists in the routes we walk every day, in the time we take to greet a passerby, and in the green spaces that offer rest in the middle of a long week. It’s in the way we inhabit and tend to our surroundings – and in what we choose to notice, to remember, to photograph. Every time I raise my camera, I find myself asking: What does this moment tell me about care? About the connection? About how people hold space for one another, even in small, unspoken ways?

These questions guide how I see and what I choose to document – not just as an observer, but as someone trying to honor the everyday gestures that make life feel shared, grounded, and real.

Moving from India to Ireland has not been without its challenges – new system, unfamiliar weather, and moments of homesickness. But, it has also been full of quiet joys and meaningful encounters. As someone navigating a new cultural and emotional landscape, I’ve learned to find care in the unexpected: in shared meals, in long walks, and lastly in the comfort of my daily routine.

This blog is a space where I want to share not just photographs, but fragments of life as it unfolds – images that speak of movement and stillness, of transition and grounding. It’s my way of saying that even in unfamiliar places, we can find and create a sense of care.

Ten months in, and I’m still learning how to see. But every photo I take reminds me that care is not always loud. Sometimes, it’s just the light falling softly on a window, or the way someone carries their shopping home. I hope this visual diary invites you to slow down and notice the care that surrounds you, wherever you are.