Everything changes.
Yana Northen • 10 June 2025
Everything changes. Sometimes, change doesn’t come through events but through the way we see the world. This is a story about how a solitary tree became a mirror of inner movement.
I arrived in Germany earlier than planned.
My former husband had passed away, and my daughter flew to his funeral.
During the day, I kept myself busy. But in the evenings, I would quietly sit in the garden.
Spring was already in full bloom, and everything around me was fragrant with life.
My attention was drawn to a bare tree — one that didn’t seem to belong in this lush landscape.
I don’t know why, but I began photographing it every day.
It became something more than just a tree.
Perhaps a reminder.
Perhaps an answer to a question.
That everything changes.
Absolutely everything.
Mood. Light. Weather.
Our state of mind.
We change — with age, with experience, with loss.
Relationships shift.
Our perception of life transforms.
And that’s what life is:
A constant flow.
A never-ending “now” that soon becomes “yesterday.”
Sometimes, it feels like nothing is happening — like you’re standing still.
But that’s not true.
Movement is always happening, even when you can’t see it.
Sometimes, the only thing you need —
is simply to be.
Exploring how flowers, emotions, and images intersect — one layer of reality over another.
Planting poppies in my garden was my unconscious way of mourning my husband—only recently did I understand their deep, symbolic meaning.
A quiet morning. A small mirror. A body, remembered.
In this letter-like reflection, I explore what happens when we pause long enough to truly meet ourselves. Through a series of movements — gaze, touch, presence — I reconnect with my body not as an object, but as a part of me that feels, remembers, and responds.
This is a continuation of the project A Conversation with My Body — where photography and words become a form of healing, presence, and quiet truth.
A quiet meditation on memory, loss, and what remains of us when we’re gone. Through a daughter’s gesture and the few objects left behind — old photographs, a worn belt, and a watch — this story reflects on how life continues in traces, in light, in dust, in love remembered. Accompanied by a symbolic photograph capturing the intimacy of this moment.
A deeply personal letter from the body to the self — an invitation to listen, feel, and reconnect. This message speaks about pain, silence, self-compassion, and the unbreakable bond between mind and body.
A visual reflection on how ordinary objects reveal our emotions and thoughts — a photo collage made over one week.