People see my photos of the Aurora and they see beauty. But what they don’t always see is the impact.

Over and over again, I have sat with youth in the North who have carried weights no child should bear. Repeatedly, I’ve had kids look at me and say the words they were too afraid to tell anyone else—about their struggles, their emotions, and their thoughts of suicide. In many cultures, we are taught to keep those feelings locked away. We are taught that silence is strength.

I am here to tell you that silence is a lie.

I know this because photography helped me first. It gave me a way to process the world when words weren't enough. Now, I see it happening in Sandy Bay and beyond. When these kids get behind a lens, they aren't just taking a picture; they are finding a way to speak. They are finding a reason to stay.

Therapeutic Photography isn't just a hobby for me—it is a lifeline. If it can help me, and if it can help these kids find their voice after years of silence, it can help anyone.

This Christmas, I’m in Regina for a moment, but my mission is louder than ever. We will not be silenced. We will keep using the light of the North to pierce the darkness of the unspoken.

To the kids who think no one is listening: I see you. The light sees you. Keep holding on.