Every now and then, someone asks me what I think about the growing prevalence of AI-generated images and whether I fear that this will push photographers out of the market.

For me, creating, translating my thoughts, inspirations and emotions into images – and, more recently, into words – is an integral part of my life.

I have often found that what I create from the depths of my being is what I need to process reality and cope with it. I also know that my actions have the power to influence others.

My ‘adventure’ with burnout (and, in truth, a broader life crisis) made me realise that I have a natural ease with writing and that I do it well. It began with so-called intuitive writing, which served to release thoughts and emotions. I did this regularly for two years, every day. When, just over two years ago, the tension reached its peak and the situation became critical, I switched from intuitive writing to a completely conscious approach – with structure and specific themes; although I still followed my thoughts freely, I began to organise them into a fully fledged text.

Working on a text fascinates me. When I was writing articles about burnout (still available on my blog under the ‘freelance burnout’ category), it was precisely the weighing up, selecting and analysing of words that allowed me to express exactly what I was feeling. I have no doubt that it was a form of self-therapy.
And I probably don’t need to add that receiving a ready-made text on the subject would have added nothing to my life.

But back to photography. I remember that, during therapy, there was an important but painful moment of a very personal realisation – it was photography that allowed me to give form to my emotions.
On my way home from my therapist’s, I had an incredible experience. I was recording how images were forming in my imagination, how a feeling was turning into a concrete visualisation. Over the following weeks, a series of photographs entitled ‘Rustle’ was created, based precisely on what I had seen in my head at that time.
In this case, I’m less interested in the artistic merits of the series (though I think it’s quite good), and much more in the fact that I was able, through creativity, to process those experiences.

The illustration for this text is from the SZELEST series.

And that is precisely the point. Human beings are creative beings, beings who are constantly creating. It is a process that shapes our development and our ability to process what lies within us. It helps us to communicate, and sometimes it is even the only possible way to express our emotions and form connections.
And it doesn’t matter whether someone is knitting, painting or dancing. What counts is the expression.

Will AI give me all this? No, it won’t. Because I’m not interested in having an image or text ready straight away. I’m interested in creating it, step by step. So it’s about the journey, not just the destination.
There is one more thing that is essential in creation – movement. I set my body in motion, I interact with a place, with a person, I form relationships. The more time I spend at the computer, the more I appreciate this. The human body was built for movement, not for life without it.

And to answer the question posed at the beginning of this text:
there are undoubtedly areas of photography where a person with a camera will no longer be needed. This has already happened in the past – for example, large furniture companies have replaced interior photographers with 3D renderings. If I’m not mistaken, IKEA is one such example.
But where it comes to experience, conversation, attention, feeling and being present – a photographer will still be needed.

I look at the digital age and observe more and more initiatives aimed at returning to being together in person, in the real world. Humans are still social, relational creatures who need other people to regulate their emotions.
I also see this natural need for equilibrium and balance in the context of the virtual world. The more algorithms dictate what we should watch and listen to, the more artificiality there is in images pretending to be reality, and the more isolation results from sitting in front of a screen, the more activities there are aimed at integration, genuine connection, shared action and shared experiences.

The creative process can be difficult, demanding and time-consuming. But it brings a sense of fulfilment, satisfaction and pleasure; it allows us to express our individuality and can give meaning to life. It is an important part of being human.
The world of photography is changing once again, and it demands that photographers keep pace with these changes. And perhaps, paradoxically, more than ever before, I perceive photography first and foremost as looking and seeing, feeling and experiencing; I am increasingly less interested in mass appeal, speed and artificiality. And if this means I remain in a niche, I intend to make myself at home there.

Spring is in full bloom in Częstochowa – or, to be more precise, the Spring of Photography.
Wiosna Fotografii is a new festival on the photography events calendar, where you’ll be able to see the work of lecturers and students from the Department of Photography at Jan Długosz University.

I am absolutely delighted that, as a new lecturer at J. Długosz University, I will also be adding something of my own.
Exhibitions and artist talks will take place this coming Saturday and Sunday, 21 and 22 March, at the building at 14 Dąbrowskiego Street in Częstochowa.
Do take a look at the festival website: wiosnafotografii.pl It looks very promising.

My photography presentation will take place on Sunday 22 March at 3 pm, and unfortunately I will only be at the festival on Sunday, as Saturday calls me to a completely different place.

See you there!

A meeting with the authors following a viewing in the photoplasticon at the Muzeum Śląskie in Katowice, Poland.

I am delighted to invite you on Saturday, 7 February, at 5 p.m. to a conversation with the creators of the photoplasticon viewing, about the behind-the-scenes creation of our photographs and our travels around Jura.
The screening is titled Where Times Intertwine, curated by Kamil Myszkowski, and accompanies the exhibition Jura. A Land Without End.

My series: The Whisper of a Soul Enchanted in Stone.
Following a forest path between the Jurassic rocks, you can feel that someone is watching you, emerging for a moment from behind a rock and observing where you are going.
You turn around, but you see no one. All that remains is a strange feeling that you did not imagine it.

The meeting will be hosted by Kamil Myszkowski.
Authors: Łukasz Cyrus, Antoni Kreis, Arkadiusz Ławrywianiec, Grzegorz Maciąg, Mirosław Miranowicz, Joanna Nowicka, Aleksander Orszulik, Krzysztof Szlapa, Janusz Wojcieszak.
We are all members of the Association of Polish Art Photographers, Silesian District.

The exhibition and the photoplasticon are open for visitors until 15 March 2026.

See you there!

The portrait that opens this post is my self portrait taken in 2004. I was going through various turmoil at the time, but one thing remained unchanged. My passion for portraiture was above all else. I created a lot, boldly and in my own way.
It’s good to remember that sparkle in my eye.

When I think about creating portraits, I see a lens for perceiving the subtleties and uniqueness in each of us, for emphasising the soul over the body, for celebrating the moment of meeting around the lens.
Softness, sensitivity, touching the core. Power, not force.
Without generating images in AI or changing the image in a flood of retouching.
With gentleness and acceptance. Without coercion and imposed trends. In the light and lightness of bright tones or the mystery hidden in the shadows.
In black and white.

Monochromatic creation has always provided me with more aesthetic experiences than colour. Somehow, I felt that between shadow and light you can see more and look deeper.
I like simplicity, minimalism and graphic nature.

It’s not that I don’t like colours in photography at all, or that I don’t like colour photos. They often impress me. It’s just that I’m not good with colours, I don’t see them, or perhaps more accurately, I find it much more difficult to imagine their composition than one composed of forms and structures in shades of grey.

Before I entered professional photography, between 2000 and 2006, I only took monochrome analogue photographs, that is, on film. Film added softness, grain and errors in exposure or development to the grey scale. All this together created an interesting and unique mix.
And then I decided to enter the profession, which required me to quickly switch to digital and colour. It was a prerequisite for starting work as a photojournalist. And of course, I have no regrets. But looking back on recent years, I know that somewhere along the way I lost that vibe, that synchronisation with what I like most about photography. I think that was one of the reasons for the professional burnout I’ve been struggling with over the last two years (burnout in freelancing).

Recently, I came across a post on the internet where slides were displayed with two contrasting photos, “now” and “then”. The photos juxtaposed the sparse, monochromatic space of streets, flats and public places with those with a large dose of colour. The caption read: colours are being taken away from us, the world is turning grey.

Two thoughts came to me. The first is that it is always a matter of taste. The palette is really wide and we may like extreme different things. And that’s okay. If I invite you to enter my vision of black and white photography, only those who like it will accept it. And that’s it.
The second is that the transition to minimalism, in form, quantity and content, is, in my opinion, closely correlated with the overload of the modern world. Recently, I have been suffering from overstimulation on many levels. So I try to calm down my surroundings: more silence (I will write about it), fewer things, slower, calmer. And maybe that’s why I’m also becoming more monochromatic.
I guess I’m not the only one who feels this way. The need to tone things down is a need of our nervous systems. Minimalism may be the answer.
And the comments under the mentioned post only confirmed my thoughts. There will be supporters of both trends. And that gives us diversity, fortunately.

There is another aspect that is important to me when I think about black and white photography. Elegant classicism, timelessness and references to iconic portraits by renowned photographers, which we still admire despite the passing of years. The thing about classics is that they do not age, they are not subject to trends, they simply navigate between eras. And that is why I value them.

When the current direction became clear to me, I realised that acting without pressure, in harmony with myself, without aggressively convincing myself or anyone else, is my priority. This is basically a prerequisite for returning to portraiture with pleasure and without a knot in my stomach. So the answer is classic, and at the moment I don’t want to do it any other way.
Will there be exceptions to this monochromatic rule? Possibly. But they will arise without pressure.
Will it be this way forever? I don’t know, basically nothing is forever.
Now is now.

I thought I was moving into a niche. But I’m just going back to my photographic roots.

The portraits in the mosaic above are some of my favourites that I have created in recent years. This is the style I feel most comfortable with.

January 2026

I am sitting on a sofa on the mezzanine floor of a car repair shop, looking down at a man typing on his keyboard. A moment earlier, he accepted my car for an airbag replacement.

I brought my laptop with me, so I’m tapping away at the keyboard too. On my way to the garage, I had the idea to write a piece about.. writing. In recent days, this topic has taken on special significance for me.

Three and a half years ago, in June 2022, a memorable month for me, several important things happened that would affect my future (which I was not yet aware of at the time), including the emergence of the habit of daily writing.
I read Julie Cameron’s book The Artist’s Way, in which the author encourages daily dumping of thoughts, writing a few pages of text. The subject matter and style are not important because the essence is the act of writing itself, not the assumption of writing something specific. The point was simply to give vent to my thoughts, to allow them to find an outlet in an unrestrained way and take the form of text. To materialise. This activity became a regular part of my mornings and allowed me to look at what was lying in the recesses of my mind.
I believe that this writing, which I did regularly for two years, was of considerable importance to the whole process I am still undergoing: clarifying the dark deposits lying in my soul, releasing the emotions that catalysed at a difficult but necessary turning point called burnout.

Exactly two years later, in 2024, also in June, I began my therapy and that was when I finally felt that my writing should take on a more structured form. I sometimes laugh that the hard work began, so the writing had to take on a different structure. I felt that something had to come of it, that the result of putting letters and words together should be a thought that I could pass on.
I had been running a photography blog for several months at that point, but the turning point came when I started writing a novel.
At first, I wrote very regularly and a lot, without a detailed plan, completely intuitively. After some time, I took advantage of a writing consultation with Magda Genow, from whom I received a lot of valuable comments. Taking them into account, I began to sketch out new pages of my book.

And then came the spring of 2025 when, as a result of my “adventures” related to (professional) burnout, I stopped working. I was unable to pick up a camera, go into the studio, or talk to clients. I had been in therapy for several months, and the moment came when I could no longer make changes in my professional life while remaining in the same pattern. I needed a break and some distance.
During that time, I focused on writing about (professional) burnout. I put the word “professional” in brackets because, in my opinion, it was primarily a life burnout, which first manifested itself at work but did not originate there.
I wrote several articles on this topic, including a publication in Ślązag (you can find them in “burnout in freelancing” category). For two months, I analysed myself very deeply in relation to this phenomenon, approaching burnout from different angles. Needless to say, this writing was primarily therapeutic for me. Putting my thoughts down on paper and working on the text forced me to think about the subject very thoroughly. I was aware that precisely naming my experiences would help me close this chapter and distance myself from it. And that is what happened.

At the beginning of winter 2025, I felt that I also wanted to publish “essays from life” on my blog on various topics, not necessarily related to photography and life with photography.
I also became ready to write not only under the banner of my own blog but to reach a wider audience with my words.

Although everything I mention above looks quite good, like a cool adventure and a completely new direction in my life, it was only a few days ago that a sentence appeared that is a game changer for me.

What I have been struggling with in recent years, which intensified cruelly during my burnout and which still rings in my ears, is a feeling of powerlessness and ineffectiveness. I will not elaborate on this topic here, but this belief is one of those that has become acute in my life in recent years.

And now, in white letters, the sentence appears: WRITING IS A SENSE OF AGENCY.

These words were spoken in Dariusz Bugalski’s K3 podcast by Maja Jaszewska, who was talking about creative writing (episode 254).

Bang!

An inner sense of agency is the foundation for effective action, which translates into concrete results.

I realised that my adventure with writing had an additional, extremely important function. It allowed me to be effective at a time when the ground was slipping away from under my feet and it seemed to me that I was no longer able to do, achieve, arrange or, as a consequence, change anything.

I was not aware of this. The seemingly simple discovery of recent days that putting words together is entirely up to me and that when and what I write is my autonomous decision has restored my sense of agency.

Going further, my writing proved effective, as, for example, a series of articles on (professional) burnout generated numerous responses from readers, discussions, and several proposals resulting from them.
In view of these facts, I had to revise my categorical assertion about my own incompetence and ineffectiveness and accept that this belief is not true. And even if I still feel it – because it concerns very specific aspects of my life – it can no longer spill over onto my whole self.
I have always been very critical and demanding of myself. These are traits of perfectionism.
So it’s time to debunk another unsupportive belief. And I’m doing it through writing.

A few months ago, while walking down a street near my home, I noticed an elderly lady walking her dog on a leash in such a way that the animal was unable to urinate, let alone calmly sniff around its territory. The lady was walking quickly, paying no attention to the dog’s needs. And whenever the dog stopped for a second and raised its leg, before it even had a chance to urinate, it was jerked and forced to continue walking.
So it stopped more and more often, began to resist, and then the woman, cursing, pulled it even more brutally.

And that was the moment when I reacted. I pointed out the whole situation to the woman, and I did so in a very decisive manner.
Her reaction: slight confusion and an explanation that “the dog is always sniffing.”
Well, of course, because that’s his natural instinct and need!

A woman passing by heard part of the conversation, took out her phone and started recording the struggling dog and its owner. She also said she would call the police if the woman did not stop treating the animal brutally.
Eventually, the dog’s “carer” calmed down, and we continued to observe her behaviour for some time.

It wasn’t the first time I had witnessed such a situation. I remember a small bulldog that, trying to stop, with its rear end dragging on the pavement, kept pooping while running. I couldn’t take it anymore. The man didn’t say anything, he just stopped and waited for the dog to finish.
Or a micro dog that lost its balance and fell over every time its owner jerked the leash.

When I see a dog owner walking alone with their dog, I wonder why they decided to take care of a dog in the first place.
Pulling a dog on a leash is common. And I’m not talking about situations where the dog is energetic and pulls away.
I’m talking about older dogs that clearly walk more slowly, or small dogs for whom keeping up with an adult walking quickly is a considerable effort. I’m also talking about those dogs that, following their instincts, need to sniff around and check every corner.

And what does the person do during this time?
I see this often: they walk along and pay no attention to what is happening at the other end of the leash. They are busy talking on the phone or fiddling with it. They rush. Or they pull on the leash every time the dog wants to sniff something.
They don’t talk to the dog — they just pull. They constantly PULL.

It looks as if walking the dog is an unpleasant chore that only causes irritation and anger.
The dog may pee in a hurry, poop in a hurry, and then politely walk on the pavement beside the person and return home.
Do dog owners who exhibit such behaviour have dogs, but don’t really want them? Are they unaware of their pets’ needs? Where is the place for loving care?
Why are these behaviours so common?

The photo illustrating this text comes from a short series I took in 2006 at a shelter for homeless animals in Gliwice. And yes, those dogs had it worse. But I’m not interested in comparing downward.

Walking along a forest path between Jurassic rocks, you feel as if someone is watching you — emerging for a moment from behind a rock, silently observing where you’re going.
You turn around, but no one is there. All that remains is the strange feeling that it wasn’t just your imagination.

My series, entitled “The Whisper of a Soul Enchanted in Rock”, will be presented during a screening at the stereoscopic show in the Silesian Museum.
It is a photographic legend about someone who wanders among Jurassic rocks, silently traverses the forest, constantly searching — yet never finding.

Let me be clear — I’m incredibly excited!
A photoplasticon is a 19th-century device with viewfinders used to view photographs. You take a seat among a dozen or so others and look inside to see three-dimensional images slowly passing by.

I’m one of nine artists representing the Silesian Chapter of the Association of Polish Art Photographers who will be showcasing their work in the photoplasticon under the collective title “Where Times Intertwine.”
The curator of this wonderful initiative is Kamil Myszkowski.

I warmly invite you to join us on Thursday, 16 October 2025, at 6:00 p.m., on level -4 of the Silesian Museum in Katowice.

The show will run until 15 March 2026 and accompanies the exhibition “Jura. The Land Without End.”

Below is the official event poster:

My article entitled ‘See yourself differently’ was published on the Ślązag website. I invite you to read it – the text is in Polish: link.

This publication was made possible thanks to the cooperation between Ślązag and the KAŻDA JEST WAŻNA collective, of which I am a member.

‘See yourself differently. How to feel comfortable in your own skin and like yourself in photos?’ is primarily a great workshop programme, which you can take part in before any portrait session with me (details), or it can take the form of a POWER SPEECH during a conference or event.

Working on a contract basis, where the number and intensity of assignments aren’t always predictable, has its consequences. This is typical for the creative industry and the reality for most creators working as freelancers under the umbrella of their own business.

Such a setup leads to a state of constant readiness — often at the expense of personal interests, rest or health. Many creators tend to prioritise work over the aspects of life I’ve just mentioned. It often stems from fear — a concern about whether there will be more projects.
Unfortunately, the other side — the client — is usually aware of this and sometimes takes advantage of it to achieve their goals faster and at a lower cost.

As a freelancer, it’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of daily work and lose sight of the bigger picture. Focusing on day-to-day tasks takes most of your attention, making it harder to step back, take care of yourself or slow down just enough to ask: am I okay in all this?

For me, that moment of pause came with burnout, accompanied by episodes of depression. In my case, it was hitting rock bottom — but of course, it’s better not to wait that long. I know how it works: you can ignore the symptoms for a long time, drown out the signals, pretend everything’s fine.

I believe there are different ways to prevent things from going off the rails. One good habit might be to check in with yourself from time to time. How am I really doing? How would I rate this area of my life? Is it working, or could it use some change?
Some time ago, I came across a tool that helps with just that.

A few weeks back, I attended a workshop titled “Creative Balance. Find Your Path (to) the Future”, led by Maja Ruszkowska-Mazerant. By then, I had already gained some distance from the challenges of the previous year, but I was still dealing with the aftermath of burnout. I was open to different forms of personal development — I wanted to gain a new perspective, learn something new, set new directions.

The heart of the workshop was working with the PRObeing model, a method developed by Maja and Maciej Mazerant. In the beautiful space of Work Place 59 in Łódź, surrounded by kind people, I spent a creative and inspiring day full of conversations, shared experiences, great food (homemade bread and cake!) — and, of course, hands-on work with the PRObeing model.

This tool genuinely resonated with me. I pay attention to visual form, and this one is really well designed. Muted colours, thoughtful layout, the feel of working on paper — the pleasure of going analogue. The instructions are clear, and the whole thing comes in a folder you can take home and continue working with.

The PRObeing model helps you organise your thoughts. It shows you what needs attention, what might need change or reevaluation. It works both for deep transformations and for small adjustments in how you operate.
On a circular diagram — a kind of wheel of life — I looked at different areas:
work and rest, finances, personal development, health and prevention, relaxation, planning.
With a crayon or marker, I filled in the sections according to my current situation — how much order there is in each area, and how much change is needed.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I coloured anything. That alone brought me joy. It felt a bit like analogue photography — it slows you down. There’s space for reflection in manual work like this — sometimes even to speak thoughts out loud. And with PRObeing, to express them through colour.

We also spent time talking about values — choosing those most important to each of us. Setting clear priorities in this area makes a big difference. It gives direction, sharpens your goals, fuels motivation, and helps you reconnect with your “factory settings.”

It was a really good day. Creative, reflective, meaningful. For me, this tool became a kind of summary of the therapeutic work I’ve done over the past 13 months. Looking into the different areas of my life gave me a sense of closure — that I had faced and worked through what needed attention. I’m still in the process of change, of rebuilding my structure, of reassessing many parts of my life. I’m in a place you might call in between. Between what was and what’s next — though definitely leaning toward the new.

It’s been a lot of work after a serious collapse.
But I believe change can come earlier — before things fall apart. Staying connected with yourself — your mind, body and soul — is key. And stopping to ask questions is a great start.
There are many good tools, workshops and personal development methods out there — and the PRObeing model is certainly one of them.

Click on the website: www.probeing.pl

You can find all my texts about burnout in the category: burnout in freelancing.

August 2025

I have been photographing people for years. People who are beautiful, original, one of a kind.
Where do I find them? Nowhere. The world is full of them — they come to my studio every day.
Most often, they don’t even realise that this is who they are: unique and original.

Self-acceptance.

This topic has been on my mind a lot lately, because in my work portraying people, I all too often hear what they say about — and to — themselves. And those aren’t kind things.
Excessive self-criticism is a poisonous, hurtful, and wounding cluster of words.

It often happens that when looking at the same portrait, the person portrayed and I have completely different impressions. We draw different conclusions and focus on different things.
I look objectively — though of course not completely. I, too, have my own beliefs and mental scripts that shape how I see the world. But I do work on neutrality. Most importantly, I maintain a certain distance — above all mental — from the person I’m photographing. From that perspective, you can see more.
Usually, if we’re accompanied by others, they also take a more objective view.
The person being portrayed, on the other hand, sees themselves through so many subjective layers that they can’t always reach the real “I”.

So many inherited perceptions influence the way we see ourselves.

Ingrained beliefs:
The filters through which we observe ourselves are usually made up of expectations and overlays given to us by our environment — upbringing, culture, religion.
Covered in all these layers, we often don’t even realise they’re artificial constructs we were placed into without consent or awareness.

Self-feeling:
Fatigue, illness, sleeplessness, or a bad mood will distort our self-image. Poor well-being doesn’t always manifest in our physical appearance — but it always shows up on our face.

Physical condition:
It’s hard to feel good in a sedentary lifestyle — no movement, lots of computer work, and “resting” while scrolling on the phone. Running between work, school, home, and errands doesn’t count.
That’s not rest or mindful movement. It’s just a chase.
It’s hard to feel good without deep breathing, the calming influence of nature, or movement (including sport) tailored to our needs.
The body dances with emotions — the way we treat it will directly affect how we feel emotionally and mentally.

Emotions:
Stress, frustration, anxiety, low self-esteem, dissatisfaction — whatever we feel, it shows. In body language, posture, expression.
I see these emotions. They appear in how a body holds itself, in tension or ease, in facing the lens — or unconsciously turning away from it.

External conditions beyond our control:

Light — who hasn’t panicked at the sight of themselves in shop fitting-room lighting? Light can tell beautiful stories, but it can also tear down our illusions with one harsh midday beam.

Mirrors — did you know the image you see in the mirror is false? That’s right — it’s a mirrored image. You see yourself in fragments, usually from above, which distorts the perception of your proportions.

Asymmetry — it’s natural. Human bodies and faces aren’t symmetrical, even on a genetic level.
Interestingly, when we look at others, we rarely notice differences between the two sides of a face. We perceive harmony. But when looking at ourselves — especially in a still image — we spot every unevenness.
To me, asymmetry adds character. It speaks of experience, emotion, and life. In a way, it’s a living diary — and incredibly inspiring.
Symmetry? That only exists in mannequins.

You are photogenic — even if you don’t believe it.

But what if — even just for a moment — you could neutralise all those overlays and beliefs and see yourself differently?
Would becoming aware of how many things have stuck to you give you a chance to look at yourself more gently?

That’s why I’ve created a workshop. A one-hour, practical lecture before any photo shoot — designed to help you:

– feel freer in front of the lens,
– connect with your body — maybe even start communicating with it,
– understand what “photogenic” and “asymmetrical” really mean,
– use your natural strengths,
– let go of fear and discomfort around being photographed.

And maybe much more will happen. A lot is in your hands. How much you take in, how much stays with you after our meeting — that’s mostly up to you.

I’m an idealist. At first, I thought that workshops like this would magically wipe out the wave of blind self-criticism.
Now I know it’s rarely that simple. Often, there are too many layers to peel back — too many wounds to heal.
But I still hope to plant a micro-seed. One that might germinate someday and spark a change in the way you see yourself.

Sounds like a mission 🙂

The workshop programme “See yourself differently. How to feel comfortable in your own skin and like yourself in photos?” can be found HERE.

You can experience this Extraordinary Hour of Power before any portrait session with me.

POWER SPEECH ! (in Polish) In October 2024, I had the opportunity to give an hour-long talk on this topic at the Women’s Development Academy at the Atrion Business Centre in Tychy. And I am eager for more!
So remember that this topic can exist at meetings, conferences, in the form of an inspiring, practical lecture. Do you know someone who organises such events and might be interested? Connect us!

You can find the texts in the series What about self-acceptance? in “with a kind eye” category.

The photographs are from my authors’ series Beautiful People. Beautiful because diverse, unique, one of a kind. You can find the series HERE.