There's something quietly powerful about this photograph — it doesn't demand your attention, it simply draws you in. The world in this frame seems to have paused for a breath. Closed shutters, an empty passage, a stillness that you can almost feel. It's the kind of silence most of us have lived through at some point, even if we've never quite found the words for it.

In the middle of it all sits a single figure not broken, not lost, just turned inward. The emptiness around him isn't sad; it's freeing. Without the noise and movement of everyday life, there's finally room to think. The rickshaw nearby, the long shadows stretching across the ground they whisper of a world that's still moving somewhere, just not here, not right now. And that contrast is everything.

Black and white felt like the only honest choice for this image. Colour would've anchored it to a time and place, but stripping that away lets you focus on what actually matters the feeling, the light, the way shadows fall like half-formed thoughts that refuse to leave.

The series is called Mero - a Nepali word meaning "mine." But this isn't about owning anything you can hold. It's about something quieter: the private world inside you that no one else can touch. When everything outside goes still, that's what's left unguarded, unperformed, entirely your own.

This photograph is really just an attempt to sit with that. To show that solitude, at its best, isn't about being alone it's about finally meeting yourself.