2015 — Toronto, Canada
SLR Photography
It was the middle of summer.
Toronto was warm and bright, the kind of afternoon where the light feels almost too generous. The trees were full, branches stretching wide, leaves moving softly in the wind.
I wasn’t rushing anywhere that day.
Just walking through the neighborhood, slowly, without a plan.
Then I noticed them.
Two small red hearts hanging from a thin branch.
They looked like something left behind from a celebration — simple decorations, slightly faded, swaying gently in the air.
Against all the green and sunlight, the red felt quiet but stubborn.
Like they insisted on being seen.
So I stopped.
I didn’t lift my camera right away.
I just stood there, watching.
They didn’t touch each other, yet they were tied to the same branch.
Close.
But not exactly together.
And for some reason, that distance felt very familiar.
During those two years, my partner and I were going through a period of readjustment.
At the beginning of a relationship, everything feels easy.
Like most couples, we had our honeymoon phase — warm, effortless, natural.
Later, we became very in sync.
Just one look or one short sentence, and we understood each other.
It felt intimate.
But it was also dangerous.
When you think you already know the other person, you slowly stop asking.
You stop explaining.
You stop checking in.
Understanding turns into assumption.
And assumption quietly becomes distance.
We were still sharing the same home, the same bed, the same daily life —
but sometimes it felt like we were walking in parallel, not really meeting.
Close, but not touching.
Like those two hearts.
When I finally pressed the shutter, it wasn’t because the scene was perfect.
It was because something inside me said,
“Remember this.”
Not the decoration.
But this feeling.
This in-between space.
Not broken.
Not romantic.
Just honest.
Now, years later, when I look at this photo, I don’t see sadness.
I see two people still tied to the same branch.
Still staying.
Still choosing not to fall away.
Maybe love isn’t something we permanently have.
Maybe love is something we keep finding, again and again, even after we thought we lost it.
This image reminds me of that.