Where the light
goes soft

There's a window every evening — usually the last hour before the sun drops behind the hills — where everything turns warm and forgiving. Shadows stretch, the light goes low and gold, and people stop performing for the camera and just exist in it. This is the collection I come back to most: portraits built entirely around chasing that hour, wherever it finds us.

Some of these are planned sessions, timed to the minute. Others happened because we were already out on a trail and the light showed up uninvited. Both count.