Dojo of Light

First lesson.

February snow, without edge.

On my birthday, a new camera came to me.

The old Pentax Spotmatic SP

went to Petra.

Metal changing hands,

like lineage.

I tell her:

a camera is a dojo.

Enter quietly.

Two hands.

Never the lens.

Calm the breath

before the shutter.

Focus is discipline.

Respect is the first movement.

Her brother serves as her first model —

stance steady, chin lifted.

Boxing gloves rest on a chair,

waiting.

Every art begins the same way:

not with force,

but with stillness.