Under the Overpass, Wandering Snow Falls

In 2024, at the Mott Haven Projects in the Bronx, New York, I met Tyson, an underground fighter, and began documenting his life.
He showed me everything—his fights, his training, and his private life in the hood. I was completely absorbed in capturing him.
He spoke about his upbringing and the tragic events of his past, once saying,

“One day, I want to succeed in boxing and break free from this struggle.”

Then, one day, he stopped responding to my messages.
A few days later, his friends told me that Tyson had been arrested and wouldn’t be released for at least three years.
In that moment, an overwhelming sense of loss washed over me.

Since then, I’ve wandered the streets of New York, capturing moments that echoed my own sense of loss, loneliness, and defiance.

Amid those days, one presence kept appearing in front of my lens: pigeons.
Like their flight, neither Tyson’s life nor mine followed a straight path—swayed by the wind, unpredictable, yet somehow always moving toward a destination.
In their motion, I saw reflections of our journeys.

One snowy day, I rushed outside with my camera, and I wondered—was Tyson looking up at the same falling snow?