FIELD NOTES · VOL. 01 · SELF-PORTRAIT
Surya.
— hobbyist, quiet observer.
I am a hobbyist wildlife photographer, currently based in Seattle, WA, with my heart still somewhere in the forests of South India. I started carrying a camera into the wild because the world is full of creatures that have nothing to do with us, and are better for it — and I wanted to pay attention to that.
Most of the frames are from North America where I'm currently based. Can't wait to explore Africa and the wilderness it has to offer.
— Surya, Seattle.
Seattle, 2026
Dear Future Me,
I'm writing this from Seattle, still planning the trips I haven't taken yet. Have you made it to Africa? Have you stood somewhere in the Mara and watched something ancient happen in front of you — something that doesn't know your name and doesn't need to? I hope you went.
And the poles. Have you seen them — both of them? The north and the south, those places I can barely picture from here. Have you seen a polar bear? Not on a screen, not behind glass — the real thing, on the ice, doing exactly as it pleases, utterly indifferent to your presence. That indifference is the whole point. I hope you understood that by now.
A note to yourself, from the version of you that still has time to choose: take things slow. The photograph isn't the point — the morning is the point. And give back to nature whenever you can. It has been patient with us far longer than we deserve. We owe it more than a camera click.
Still looking,
Surya.
There are days when I genuinely do not leave this chair. Not because I can't. Because I won't. The controller is comfortable, the game is not finished, and my back disagrees — but my back does not get a vote.
It is a different kind of patience from waiting for a bird. The bird might not come. In the game, something will always happen if you keep pressing forward. I appreciate that.
— the chair has a permanent indent now.
My fish don't talk back. But they do listen — or at least they appear to, which is close enough. I've been aquascaping: building small underwater landscapes for creatures who have absolutely no idea how much thought went into the arrangement of that one particular rock.
It is my newest obsession and I see no obvious end to it. The plants need trimming, the hardscape needs rethinking, and there is always one more piece of driftwood that would make it perfect. There isn't. But I keep looking.
— they do not appreciate the effort. that's fine.
The Black Pearl took three weekends and cost more than I would like to admit. Worth every brick. Every single one.
There is a specific kind of peace in following instructions — no creativity required, no decisions to make, no uncertainty. Just step 14 of 247 and the quiet satisfaction of something coming together exactly as it should. I build slowly. I read ahead. I am not ashamed of this.
— the Black Pearl lives on the shelf. it does not sail.
I collect action figures of characters I love from film and television. The shelf is organised. The figures are displayed, not played with, and there is a dedicated Keanu Reeves section. John Wick. Neo. The whole thing. Any Keanu Reeves fans here?
There is something about characters who say very little, do a great deal, and seem entirely unbothered by everything around them. I relate to this more than I probably should.
— I have opinions. ask me.
Current watchlist: seventeen series, none of them finished. I binge well. I finish poorly. Something always comes up around episode nine and the tab stays open for months, paused at a pivotal moment, waiting for me to return.
If you have strong opinions about the greatest anime of all time, I want to hear them. Mainly so I can add more to the queue and never finish those either.
— episode 9. always episode 9.
There was a time I played guitar. There was also a time I was going to learn to cook properly, get into running, and take up cycling.
The guitar is still here, in the corner, slightly out of tune, waiting. The running shoes are somewhere. The cycling lasted one summer — the bike is in the garage, also waiting.
I think about them fondly. That's enough, for now.
— the guitar will have its day. probably.
I'm probably in a forest. But messages do reach me, eventually.