I conceive of documentary photography not as a vehicle for nostalgia, but as a system of sociological confrontation. My first encounter with visual testimony began when my father documented construction workers in Libya using a Polaroid; there, I saw that a photograph is not merely an aesthetic object, but a “proof of existence.” This reflex evolved from a personal curiosity into a form of memory archaeology when I encountered abandoned Armenian gravestones in the misty mountains of Rize. My education in sociology has granted me an analytical distance toward the stateless, moments of crisis, and cultural traces on the verge of erasure that pass through my viewfinder. For me, photography is not about capturing a singular, “beautiful” frame, but about constructing a narrative system; my aim is not merely to record what is, but to fix the social layers of the invisible.