July 23, 2025 – Philadelphia









What’s popping, people?
It’s Dante, currently reporting live from the Garden of Eden — also known as Fairmount Park. The fig tree is bearing fruit. I’m not joking. These figs are ripe. Got some good rain lately. Look. Yeah. They’re soft, sweet, juicy. I’m eating a fig right now.
Oh — there’s an ant on the fig. Actually, multiple ants.
Maybe I just ate a couple. Extra protein.
“I sure know what it’s like to eat bugs, considering my time in the Peace Corps.”
And that’s actually the perfect segue into what I want to talk about today:
Macro photography.
Today I’m out here shooting with the Ricoh GR III. And I’m not out looking for “the moment” or chasing people on the street — I’m doing the opposite.
I’m slowing down.
I’m getting low.
I’m looking closely.
That’s the gift of macro photography — it shifts your whole orientation to the world.
A lot of the time we’re chasing the big picture. The wide frame. The decisive moment. The grand vista. But what happens when you stop chasing? What happens when you notice?
I genuinely believe:
If you slow down and look at the fine details of life, you can find God.
These things all carry their own inherent beauty — and macro photography helps you see that.
When you zoom in, you start to see other worlds.
I look at my macro shots and sometimes they feel like alien planets. Surfaces become landscapes. Light becomes story. The hosta under the tree becomes a mysterious little character in some forgotten fable.
Macro photography lets you create a new version of reality — your own world.
It’s not just about documenting anymore. It’s about play. Pure, simple, joyful creation.
These days, I don’t take myself too seriously when I’m shooting. I walk slow. I let curiosity guide me. I let myself be surprised. That’s the key.
You’ve heard “slow down,” but have you ever really done it?
Have you raised your camera to the texture of a leaf and really looked?
Using the LCD on the GR III feels like holding up a magnifying glass to the veil of reality. You peer through it… and suddenly everything feels different.
Macro photography isn’t just some niche. It’s not just for bugs and flowers.
It’s a mindset.
A discipline.
A way to see deeper.
And the more I photograph this way, the more joyful I feel as an artist. Not because I’m making “bangers.” But because I’m reconnecting with the act of seeing.
So yeah, follow your joy.
Follow what makes you stop and say “Whoa.”
Through that joy, you’ll shoot more.
Through shooting more, you’ll find peace.
And through peace, you’ll discover beauty in all the little intricacies of the world.
Where did the fig go, anyway?
What’s popping people — it’s Dante, walking along the Schuylkill River in Philadelphia, thinking about composition.
And here’s the thought that hit me hard today:
Composition is physical.
Let me explain what I mean by that — and why it matters, especially for street photography.
When I talk about composition, I’m not talking about some abstract academic thing. I’m talking about real, lived practice. Yeah, you can talk about composition in painting, drawing, sculpture — all the visual arts. There’s always a sense of arrangement and structure. Like when you look at a beautiful church — the way the columns line up, the archways, the stained glass — that’s composition.
But as a photographer?
You’re working in physical, embodied reality.
You’re not sitting back with a brush or a pencil. You’re out in the world, physically responding to what’s in front of you. You’re using your body to see.
That’s what the word “composition” means at its root — to place things together.
And when you’re shooting — especially in the street — you’re constantly placing yourself in relationship to:
You’re responding to life in real time. That’s the challenge. That’s the beauty.
When people talk about layering in photography, they often make it more complicated than it needs to be.
To me, layering is just the natural outcome of you physically positioning yourself in the right spot — to see:
You don’t force complexity. You feel the simplicity.
Like today — I saw a couple on the grass, a boat on the river, and a guy walking in front. That’s three planes right there. If I shot it from eye level, everything would get lost in the greenery. But if I drop low, or raise the camera up, I can separate those layers. I can outline silhouettes against the river. I can make the scene read clearly.
That’s composition.
It’s not about leading lines or the rule of thirds or some textbook visual jargon.
It’s about physically being in the right place and feeling when to click.
You have to move your body:
The whole thing is like a dance. It’s a gut feeling. You’re not in your head thinking, “Hmm, where’s my vanishing point?” You’re reacting to the world. You’re scanning with your eye and responding with your body.
Photography isn’t about brains. It’s about instinct.
You’re not overanalyzing with logic. You’re in the moment, responding to light, form, and energy.
Every scene has a sweet spot.
It’s not always obvious. But it’s there — waiting for you to find it. Not through theory, not through overthinking — but through practice.
And that’s the key. You can read all the tips and tricks. Watch all the videos. Study all the diagrams.
But until you get out and walk, and see, and move your damn body, it’s all just fluff.
Philosophy is one thing. Praxis is another.
That’s why I keep shooting. That’s why I’ve shot for over a decade, rain or shine, city or beach, chaos or calm. Because over time, you develop this rhythm. You can drop into any scene and feel out that sweet spot, almost without thinking.
Look at the world like a puzzle. Each piece — foreground, subject, background — is floating around, waiting to be locked into place. And you’re the one who locks it in — not with Photoshop, but with your legs, your eyes, your gut, your timing.
When I’m out shooting — like at Coney Island on July 4th — I don’t know what I’m going to get. But I know I’ll find a way. Because I trust my body. I trust my instinct.
You don’t need:
All you need to know is this:
Composition is physical.
And the photograph is a reflection of your body in space and your gut in time. That’s it.
Even this video — I was just walking along Kelly Drive. It was loud. It was messy. But that’s life. That’s photography.
Things overlap. Things aren’t perfect.
That’s the beauty.
The noise. The chaos. The movement. It all adds flavor.
Same goes for how you shoot. Get sloppy. Let life bleed into the frame. Because the best compositions aren’t sterile. They’re alive.
I saw a couple sunbathing. If I shot them from a low angle, they’d melt into the grass. But if I raise the camera, shoot top-down? Boom — now their silhouettes pop against the river.
That’s a small thing. But it’s everything.
That’s position. That’s intuition. That’s composition.
So yeah. Just some thoughts on my walk.
Hopefully this helps you see a little differently next time you’re out there shooting. Don’t overthink it. Move your body. Trust your gut.
And remember:
Photography is simple. Composition is physical. Intuition is the trigger.
Peace ✌️
— Dante

It seems that these days we’re all seeking validation from our peers. We look for likes, subscribers, viewers, awards—recognition from others, whether it’s colleagues, friends, family, or strangers on the Internet. I think it’s normal to want to be seen. But the more I detach from this world, the more this all means little to me.
The modern world seeks validation through wealth, modern notions of success, and fame. But what if we think more critically about seeking eternal fame—divine kleos—in the eyes of God alone?
In The Iliad, Achilles was seeking eternal fame. A fame that lasts for thousands of years. We still reference his name to this day. While this worldly fame, through his story in epic poems and literature, echoes throughout history… what if we reframed this notion of legacy and fame toward the divine instead?
If we are all going to die one day, and our inevitable fate leads us to that death where we are alone, does it really matter whether or not you were known to your peers during your brief moment here?
I think most people are seeking to be known. It’s a very normal feeling—to not want to feel by yourself. But when you recognize that you are created in the image of God, it gives you permission to let go of worldly renown. Because after all, it is God who is watching you, from before you were born and into eternity.
And so the next time you go to post something or do something or share something with the world or with somebody, think to yourself why you are doing so. And if being recognized is something you truly need or desire.
The more you detach from validation from mortals, the more you seek to appease God—the only source of validation you truly need. Because after all, when you go to lay your head on your deathbed, what other validation do you truly need to seek?

Spartans, what is your profession?
Ahoo! Ahoo! Ahoo!
We may not live behind stone walls anymore, but the need to defend what’s ours has never disappeared. When I think about medieval Europe during the time of kingdoms — where people lived within the castle walls and had a fortified fortress, holding all of their wealth and tribe in these insular communities — I’m pretty sure they didn’t want to lose any of that.
They put the walls up for a reason: to keep invaders out, to keep the people safe, and to prosper within the kingdom. You’d really have to be down bad to pull up on someone’s castle walls with cannons just to get some resources. If this did occur, the king would have to tap into his gold reserves, fund his army, then go fight.
If the king ran out of gold, well, then the war would end. How the hell would he keep funding his men to die in battle? He couldn’t.
There’s a legend that Alexander the Great burned the boats when he and his troops arrived in Persia — to force the men into battle with no way to return home. The conviction you’d need to do that is inspiring.
However, in this modern world, with no more land to conquer, with nothing left to fight for, no tribe worth defending the walls for — who are we to strive to become?
My funny thought: nobody’s going to become the next Alexander the Great. But maybe… we can become the next Diogenes.
Originally a banker, Diogenes was exiled from Sinope for defacing the currency. Apparently, he shaved off the silver. From being a high-status man to living in a clay pot in Athens, he challenged societal norms and lived out his philosophy: that the pursuit of wealth, luxury, and status is valueless.
One of the most famous stories: when Alexander came to Athens, everyone went to see him — except Diogenes. Alexander sought him out. When he found Diogenes in his pot, he said, “I’ll grant you anything you wish.”
Diogenes replied: “Step out of the sunlight.”
Alexander walked away and said, “If I weren’t Alexander, I would be Diogenes.”
I have a neighbor who constantly talks about the status of her family. Every time I see her, she tells me her daughter went to Harvard, her son is a doctor, her husband is rich — and then she always asks me what my profession is. Or what I studied. Or what degree I got.
What’s funny is, she barely speaks English. She’s from Korea — and this is basically the only phrase she knows in English.
It reminds me how shallow and status-obsessed 99% of people are.
My idea of success?
Being able to move your body through the world and feel the sunlight on your skin.
Maybe Diogenes was onto something…
Today, modern “success” means putting yourself under fluorescent lights in a climate-controlled box, chained to a desk, trading time for fake dollars. But real success? Roaming barefoot, free, in the sun. Not caring to fit in with societal norms.
What was the #1 priority of the Spartans?
Freedom.
What is Bitcoin?
Freedom.
The Spartans valued physical excellence and military prowess because it kept them free from control. When you’re the best, there’s no second best. No one even thinks about enslaving you.
Spartan boys trained barefoot in the harsh Agoge system. When they went to war, their mothers told them:
“Come back with your shield… or on it.”
The Spartans lived free or died trying.
Not your land, not your life.
Not your keys, not your coins.
Bitcoin is like digital hoplite armor. You’re either a fortified warrior or a helot slave.
The Spartans lived austerely. Children were underfed and encouraged to steal food. They ate a bland broth. No fancy clothes. No jewelry. No luxury.
They even banned gold and silver. Spartans used iron bars as currency because they were too heavy to hoard — discouraging greed. Their focus: duty, discipline, glory, strength.
The treasures stored on this earth will be corrupted.
The Spartans knew that.
But their spirit? That’s eternal. And it’s something all Bitcoiners should adopt. They made money heavy. Satoshi made it digital, but unforgeable.
Holding Bitcoin in cyberspace is like holding the line in a phalanx — each shield interlocked to defend against fiat corruption. Against the Fed printing money and funding infinite war.
The Spartans weren’t bloodthirsty conquerors.
They defended their land. They weren’t aggressors.
Why?
Because the slaves they ruled outnumbered them 7 to 1.
If they ever revolted, it was over.
So the Spartans held the line.
In this brave new world, if I asked you:
Would you rather be free or a slave?
What would you choose?
One of the first movies I ever watched as a kid was A Bug’s Life.
It follows Flik — an inventor ant in a colony where the main job is to harvest grain for the grasshoppers who rule over them.
Flik tried to help the colony, but he stood out. He got exiled, went to explore new lands, and came back with an army of warrior bugs.
There’s a scene where a grasshopper explains to his crew how just one ant doesn’t matter — but dump a pile of grain on your head, and suddenly you remember: we’re outnumbered.
In the end, Flik and his warrior bugs defeat the grasshoppers. Not with violence — but with courage and truth.
Fiat currency is like those grains. The ants work all day harvesting wealth to feed the grasshoppers at the top.
But if the ants stopped playing the game?
If they all held their wealth in cold storage?
The grasshoppers lose. The ants become Spartans. The ants didn’t need more grain. They just needed to realize they had the numbers — and the power was always theirs.
You don’t need to go protest in the streets.
No need to stand in D.C. with a sign.
You can opt out.
Convert your fiat into Bitcoin.
Escape the slavery of a broken system.
If your dollar loses purchasing power every year… why save it?
As the Fed prints endlessly, funding war and debt — you lose.
But as a Bitcoiner, you don’t need to fight.
You just exit.
You just buy the hardest money humanity has ever created.
It’s wild how you can feel the collapse even locally.
Just recently, the street cleaners went on strike. For two weeks, trash piled up all across the city. It stunk like hell.
Why?
Because the money is broken.
Sure, higher wages for workers are necessary — but that doesn’t fix the root problem.
That’s just loosening the rope around their neck.
Dante

Dear Mayor Cherelle Parker,
Philadelphia is a city steeped in revolutionary history. The Declaration of Independence was signed here. The Constitution was debated and ratified here. The Liberty Bell rang out from this soil. This city has always stood for liberty, innovation, and bold leadership.
Today, as we confront growing economic uncertainty, technological disruption, and rising distrust in traditional financial systems, it is time once again for Philadelphia to lead—not by following the status quo, but by forging a new path.
I urge you to consider adopting Bitcoin as a strategic treasury reserve asset for the City of Philadelphia.
U.S. municipal budgets face mounting pressure from inflation and expanding expenditures. Bitcoin’s finite supply cap (21 million coins) makes it a digital store of value that doesn’t fall prey to inflationary monetary policies—unlike cash reserves that can lose real value over time.
Current reserves likely sit in treasuries, money market funds, and bank deposits. Allocating a modest percentage—say, 1–5%—to Bitcoin diversifies these holdings. In periods of fiscal crisis, Bitcoin has historically shown low correlation with traditional assets, potentially helping Philadelphia weather downturns.
Philadelphia’s history is anchored in being a cradle of revolution and progress. Embracing Bitcoin would modernize that legacy. Cities such as Miami, New York, and Austin have explored Bitcoin treasury strategies, capturing media attention and reinforcing their reputations as forward-leaning economic hubs.
This initiative is not just about treasury diversification—it’s about empowering Philadelphians through access, education, and opportunity. Below are practical ways Bitcoin can directly benefit city workers, commuters, small businesses, and everyday residents.
Launch a pilot where SEPTA riders earn small Bitcoin rewards (via the Lightning Network) for using public transit:
Allow municipal employees to opt-in to a retirement option with Bitcoin exposure:
This initiative costs the city nothing but provides powerful future-proofing for its workforce.
Test a micro-grant program in underserved communities:
Philadelphia could become the first city in the U.S. to use programmable Bitcoin-based stipends to support real economic empowerment.
Create incentives for blockchain startups to base their headquarters here:
Philadelphia can pilot a green Bitcoin mining initiative to generate additional income:
This operation would create jobs, bring in new tax revenue, and monetize unused electricity—without harming the environment.
Let Philadelphia turn surplus energy into sound money. Let us mine value, not pollution.
We propose a city-sponsored “Bitcoin for the People” campaign to ensure this innovation is grounded in education:
This isn’t just about technology—it’s about access, transparency, and public participation in shaping a new economic foundation.
Bitcoin is only the beginning. As a city, we can explore:
Let Philadelphia become the first American city to champion digital sovereignty—protecting our data, our finances, and our future.
| Benefit | Description |
|---|---|
| Fiscal Innovation | Shows voters and investors that Philadelphia is fiscally agile and modern. |
| Economic Growth | Attracts fintech and blockchain startups to the city, diversifying our economy and tax base. |
| Public Empowerment | Opens doors for city employees and residents to participate in the next era of sound money. |
| Energy Efficiency | Monetizes unused electricity while supporting clean energy infrastructure. |
| Academic Leadership | Partners with local universities to lead the conversation nationally. |
The “One Philly” strategy you championed through the $6.8 billion FY2026 budget aims to make Philadelphia safer, cleaner, greener, and more economically vibrant (phila.gov). A Bitcoin strategy supports this mission by:
Bitcoin is not about speculation. It is about sovereignty, security, and the future. And there is no better city to lead this revolution than Philadelphia—the birthplace of American freedom.
In 1776, we declared independence from monarchy.
In 2025, let us declare financial independence from inflation and centralized control.
The world is watching how cities respond to economic uncertainty. Let Philadelphia show them what courage, clarity, and leadership look like. Let the Liberty Bell ring again—not just for political freedom, but for economic sovereignty in the digital age.
With deep respect,
Dante Sisofo
Artist, Citizen of Philadelphia
The word prolific comes from the Latin root:
- proles — meaning offspring, descendants, progeny
- -ficus — from facere, meaning to make or to do
So prolific literally means “producing offspring” or “producing abundantly.”
Breakdown:
- Pro- = forward, forth
- -les/proles = offspring
- -fic (from facere) = making, producing
Original Meaning:
Originally, prolificus in Latin meant producing offspring, fertile — especially in relation to fruit trees, animals, or women.
Modern Usage:
Now, prolific has a broader meaning:
- Producing in great quantities — not just offspring, but:
- Prolific writer → writes a lot
- Prolific artist → creates many works
- Prolific scorer → scores many goals
Summary:
Prolific = fruit-bearing, offspring-producing → abundantly creative or productive
It carries the metaphor of fruitfulness across to any kind of generative activity — not just literal children, but ideas, art, work, or action.
What’s poppin, people?
I’ve spent the last decade walking the streets of Philly, Rome, Jericho, and Hanoi — camera in hand, eyes wide open. This archive isn’t just about photography. It’s about how to see.
These 95+ lectures are packed with mindset, composition, breakdowns, and raw lessons from the frontlines of life. Whether you’re just starting or refining your craft, this is for you.
🕒 Total Watch Time: 95 videos — 1 day, 12 hours of content
📈 Watch at 2× speed: just 18 hours
No fluff. No rules. Just real seeing.

What’s poppin, people? This is the complete archive of my Street Photography Breakdown series — 20 videos, nearly 5 hours of raw insights, composition breakdowns, and behind-the-scenes stories from the street.
Every photo you’ll see in this series was made by me over the past 10 years — in cities like Philadelphia, Baltimore, Rome, Jericho, and more. I break down how each shot came together, why I pressed the shutter, and what was going through my mind in that moment.
“This ain’t about gear. This is about how to see. How to move. How to live.”
Whether you’re new to street photography or looking to refine your instinct, this is a series made to train your eye, spark your curiosity, and remind you that photography is a physical, emotional, and spiritual act.
20 videos — 100 photographs — Nearly 5 hours of content
👉 Watch the full YouTube playlist here
Each episode comes with:
All of that is available here on my site, episode by episode. Scroll down and dive in. This is the kind of series I wish existed when I was first starting out.
“Even if one photo or one idea sticks with you — then this all means something.”
Here’s the full lineup of all 20 episodes.
Each episode has its own dedicated post with a linked slideshow, full-size images, and text breakdowns of how the photos were made and why they matter. I wanted to give you something you could study — not just watch.
These aren’t just videos — they’re full visual essays to help you see deeper and shoot with more intention.

So one funny thought I had today is about thinking. When I see that statue of The Thinker outside the Rodin Museum here in Philadelphia on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, I can’t help but wonder—
How the hell is this guy coming up with any thoughts just sitting there on his ass?
Anytime I feel like sitting down, it’s because I’m tired. And when my physical body is tired, my metabolism slows down, my hormones stop firing, and to be honest with you—I start to overthink.
If I’m just sitting there passively—especially indoors, surrounded by four corners and a ceiling, in an air-conditioned box—something feels off. This way of being, sitting down in modern condos and apartments, it’s like locking yourself in a cage. Like a zoo animal.
And when you’re sitting on your ass, thinking, it’s almost as if the thoughts hit the ceiling and bounce back. They don’t go anywhere. You just sit there wallowing in your head, playing things over and over again.
Look at the word depression. It’s wild to think about it literally—being pressed down. When you’re sitting, the laws of physics have you confined. You’re in a state of compression. You are being de-pressed.
But when you’re outside, in fresh air, walking in nature—preferably on a trail, surrounded by trees, hearing birds and insects hum—you feel alive. You feel spiritedness inside.
And through that spiritedness, you rediscover your instincts.
The most blissful state of being? Just being outside, with the freedom to move. Walking with your two legs. Sunlight on your skin. Wind in your face. That’s bliss.
I follow the light. I move through life with my gut and my heart.
By following my bliss, my love for life increases.
Anything that keeps me confined inside will slowly kill my soul. It drains me. Zaps my energy. Traps me in a mental loop. But when I’m moving—becoming—trusting my gut, following my heart, I feel full of love, energy, and life.
Any thought that comes to me in that state is primal, instinctual, and pure. Not overthought. Not filtered. Just real.
Just look at modern work trends:
Eight hours inside, sitting at a computer, doing tedious tasks.
This is no way to live—especially as a man.
And now? We’ve got weird VR goggles, Metaverse experiences, and people glued to screens all day, consuming mindless junk and slowly becoming vegetables.
The trend is toward denying the body and praising the mind. But what’s the joy in that? Personally, I’d rather walk around all day and experience life on the front lines than sit inside, motionless, while my brain gets digitally projected across the world.
Why is there this obsession with being in your head?
Why not return to the real? The physical? The primal?
Remember public school growing up?
Metal detectors. X-ray machines. Security guards in the halls. Forced to sit for hours and regurgitate info you’d forget the next day. That’s not education. That’s a prison system.
It trained us to sit still, think too much, obey passively.
But I remember rejecting all that.
Sneaking out the back door. Walking through the park nearby.
Doing my work on my own time, when I felt like it.
That’s when I was free.
Just do and follow what you love.
Through love, you’ll find spiritedness. Power. Energy.
And your instincts will guide you the rest of the way.

Philebus is a rich and intricate dialogue that tackles one of the central questions of philosophy: What constitutes the good life? Is it pleasure, as hedonists like Philebus claim? Or is it reason, measure, and intellect, as Socrates argues? Set as a debate between Socrates and Protarchus (who defends Philebus’s position), the dialogue carefully unpacks the relationship between pleasure, knowledge, and the highest good.
Rather than choosing a simplistic answer, Philebus attempts to blend opposites, showing how a life of harmony requires a careful mix of pleasure and reason. The dialogue ultimately reveals how philosophical inquiry itself refines our understanding of what is truly worth pursuing.
The dialogue opens with a sharp contrast:
Socrates challenges the notion that pleasure alone can be the good:
Through dialectic, Socrates aims to show that pure pleasure is unstable and lacks measure, while intellect is orderly, discerning, and aligned with truth.
Socrates introduces a famous metaphysical framework, dividing all things into four categories:
This division allows Socrates to frame the good life as not the exclusive domain of either pleasure or intellect, but a measured blend—a harmony of opposites guided by reason.
Socrates sharpens the argument by distinguishing between:
He critiques bodily pleasures and argues that pleasures without intelligence or knowledge are blind and deceptive.
This leads to the key insight:
Pleasure without understanding can be dangerous. Wisdom brings clarity.
Eventually, Socrates proposes that the good life is:
He places reason, measure, and proportion above pleasure in the hierarchy of value. The good life must be:
Thus, pleasure is included but not supreme.
Is the good life simply about feeling good, or does it involve rational order and truth?
Plato emphasizes that measure (metron) and proportion (symmetria) are crucial to the good.
The best pleasures are those that are aware, measured, and in tune with reality.
Rather than rejecting pleasure, Plato seeks a just blend—a symphony of body and soul.
Philebus offers a sophisticated vision of human flourishing—one that integrates pleasure with rational insight. Plato challenges us to rethink the foundations of happiness, not by denying pleasure, but by measuring it. In doing so, he moves beyond the false dichotomy of body versus mind and shows us that the highest good lies in balance, clarity, and wisdom.
This is philosophy not as doctrine, but as a path toward harmony—one that calls each person to weigh, discern, and pursue the truth of what it means to live well.

The wisest decision I’ve made the past two years is working in a park in the outdoors. I spend my mornings til afternoon tending gardens and doing hard labor under the sun while attending high quality lectures, reading philosophy, and stacking bitcoin. I spend my evenings in the streets working on my photography, weightlifting, boxing, and feasting on meat.
I refuse to live a mediocre life that is lukewarm.
I made the conscious decision to live a life of simplicity, leisure and solitude for work, so that I can become the greatest and most prolific artist that I can possibly be. I’ve designed my life in a way that allows me to be in a perpetual flow state of play, learning, and curiosity. This way I can do everything in my power to become excellent.
I’m Jesus in the morning and Achilles in the evening!
If you want to become great, you have to become obsessed… or possessed.
If you don’t feel enthusiastic each morning about the thing that you’re doing, you’re never going to become great. That’s the truth. No amount of discipline is going to get you there. But what will? Being possessed by God.
Or just become a demigod

Word:
Enthusiasm
Origin: Greek — enthousiasmos (ἐνθουσιασμό
Breakdown:
- en- (ἐν) = in
- theos (θεός) = god
- → entheos = possessed by a god / filled with the divine
💥 Meaning:
In Ancient Greece, “enthusiasm” meant being divinely inspired — like the Oracle of Delphi, poets, or warriors touched by the gods. To be enthusiastic was not just being hyped or excited — it was to be on fire with divine spirit.
🧠 Modern usage:
Today it just means excited or eager — but the root is way deeper.
To be truly enthusiastic is to be filled with god.
It’s not hype. It’s spiritual possession.
What’s poppin’, people?
It’s Dante. Coming to you live from the Centennial Arboretum. Just got a fresh cut — sides shaved down. Feels good. Real good. Summer’s blazing, but this morning’s got that cool breeze, cloudy skies, peace in the air. I’m just walking. Just flowing.
I turned the GoPro on like I usually do. No plan. No script. Just vibes. Stream of consciousness. Letting it out.
“I wield the camera like a sword to strike through the chaos and put order to it in my frames.”
When I’m out in the world with my camera, I don’t overthink it. I respond to what’s in front of me. Intuitively. Instinctively. I let the camera come along for the ride, like it’s strapped to my soul.
The street becomes a playground, a battlefield, an arena. Each scene is an invitation to create, to react, to conquer with presence.
“We have a past, we have a future — but these things aren’t my concern.”
All I care about is right now.
Photography, for me, is meditative. It brings me into the moment. And when I’m in the moment, I feel like I’m outside of time. No stress. No fear. Just this eternal now. This is where I believe humans thrive — not survive.
Because if you’re lost in the past, that’s depression. If you’re stuck in the future, that’s anxiety. But when you move your body, when you walk with purpose, when you photograph with intention, you find that place in between. And that’s where the magic happens.
“Photography literally means drawing with light.”
The trees remind me: just reach for the sun.
That’s what I’m doing every time I lift my camera. Following the light. Chasing it. Drawing with it. Light on surface. That’s all it is. That’s all it needs to be.
Photography — phos (light) + graphe (writing) — is me writing poems with the sun.
“We are flesh. We cut, we bleed. And that’s what makes us divine.”
I treat every photograph like it might be my last.
Why? Because one day, it will be.
That’s the gift of photography — the urgency it brings. It reminds me of my mortality. Of this sacred timeline. Of the fragility of being human. I let that awareness fill me with curiosity, joy, gratitude — and I let it guide my shutter finger.
Like a child playing in the woods, asking why at every leaf and shadow, I photograph as a way of questioning the world.
“Each night is a mini death. Each morning is a rebirth.”
And with every sunrise, I walk out with new eyes.
Before I shoot anything, I give thanks.
What more could I ask for?
When I’m overflowing with that kind of gratitude, I’m full of bliss. And when I’m full of bliss, I can’t help but chase joy. That’s when I photograph best — from that light, joyful place.
What’s my goal?
“To reflect my soul in the photographs I make.”
That’s it. That’s the game.
Not followers. Not likes. Not exhibitions. Just truth. Just essence. Just that raw, unfiltered, inner world made visible.
When I let go of plans and shoot in the spirit of play, when I lean into intuition, I start to reflect something real. And that’s where my best work comes from.
Lately, I’ve been undergoing a metamorphosis.
“You gotta turn to goo before you become a butterfly.”
For seven years, I shot color. But for the last three, I’ve been in black and white — stripping things down. Simplifying. Rebuilding.
I’ve destroyed everything I thought I knew:
And I rebuilt. From the ground up.
Like a caterpillar in a chrysalis, I liquified my old ideas. And I came out the other side with wings. The transformation never ends. We’re always cycling. Always rebirthing. Always evolving.
The final form? The child. Always.
“The three traits every photographer needs:”
That’s the holy trinity of photography. Forget gear. Forget technique. Cultivate these three and you’ll go far.
And the best part? You don’t need to grow 100% every day. Just 1% more curious each morning. That’s it. Small steps. Compound vision.
I keep it simple:
Ricoh GR. Wrist strap. Small JPEGs. Fits in my pocket. Always on me.
This camera is my diary. It documents my life in real time — bus rides, self-portraits, window reflections, macro details. It lets me shoot without excuses.
“Just treat it like a visual diary. No pressure. No outcome. Just joy.”
That’s the way.
At the end of the day, it’s not that deep. Or maybe it is. But either way, the point is this:
Let the photos reflect that inner child. That joyful soul. That free mind.
That’s what I’m doing.
Now, back to the walk. Look at this park. Whoa.
Thanks for watching. Thanks for reading.
Peace. Peace. Peace. Peace.

Spartans, what is your profession?
Ahoo! Ahoo! Ahoo! Shoutout to Eric Kim — the King Leonidas of street photography and Bitcoin philosophy.
We may not live behind stone walls anymore, but the need to defend what’s ours has never disappeared. When I think about medieval Europe during the time of kingdoms — where people lived within the castle walls and had a fortified fortress, holding all of their wealth and tribe in these insular communities — I’m pretty sure they didn’t want to lose any of that.
They put the walls up for a reason: to keep invaders out, to keep the people safe, and to prosper within the kingdom. You’d really have to be down bad to pull up on someone’s castle walls with cannons just to get some resources. If this did occur, the king would have to tap into his gold reserves, fund his army, then go fight.
If the king ran out of gold, well, then the war would end. How the hell would he keep funding his men to die in battle? He couldn’t.
There’s a legend that Alexander the Great burned the boats when he and his troops arrived in Persia — to force the men into battle with no way to return home. The conviction you’d need to do that is inspiring.
However, in this modern world, with no more land to conquer, with nothing left to fight for, no tribe worth defending the walls for — who are we to strive to become?
My funny thought: nobody’s going to become the next Alexander the Great. But maybe… we can become the next Diogenes.
Originally a banker, Diogenes was exiled from Sinope for defacing the currency. Apparently, he shaved off the silver. From being a high-status man to living in a clay pot in Athens, he challenged societal norms and lived out his philosophy: that the pursuit of wealth, luxury, and status is valueless.
One of the most famous stories: when Alexander came to Athens, everyone went to see him — except Diogenes. Alexander sought him out. When he found Diogenes in his pot, he said, “I’ll grant you anything you wish.”
Diogenes replied: “Step out of the sunlight.”
Alexander walked away and said, “If I weren’t Alexander, I would be Diogenes.”
I have a neighbor who constantly talks about the status of her family. Every time I see her, she tells me her daughter went to Harvard, her son is a doctor, her husband is rich — and then she always asks me what my profession is. Or what I studied. Or what degree I got.
What’s funny is, she barely speaks English. She’s from Korea — and this is basically the only phrase she knows in English.
It reminds me how shallow and status-obsessed 99% of people are.
My idea of success?
Being able to move your body through the world and feel the sunlight on your skin.
Maybe Diogenes was onto something…
Today, modern “success” means putting yourself under fluorescent lights in a climate-controlled box, chained to a desk, trading time for fake dollars. But real success? Roaming barefoot, free, in the sun. Not caring to fit in with suicidal norms.
What was the #1 priority of the Spartans?
Freedom.
What is Bitcoin?
Freedom.
The Spartans valued physical excellence and military process because it kept them free from control. When you’re the best, there’s no second best. No one even thinks about enslaving you.
Spartan boys trained barefoot in the harsh Agoge system. When they went to war, their mothers told them:
“Come back with your shield… or on it.”
The Spartans lived free or died trying.
Not your land, not your life.
Not your keys, not your coins.
Bitcoin is like digital hoplite armor. You’re either a fortified warrior or a helot slave.
The Spartans lived austerely. Children were underfed and encouraged to steal food. They ate a bland broth. No fancy clothes. No jewelry. No luxury.
They even banned gold and silver. Spartans used iron bars as currency because they were too heavy to hoard — discouraging greed. Their focus: duty, discipline, glory, strength.
The treasures stored on this earth will be corrupted.
The Spartans knew that.
But their spirit? That’s eternal. And it’s something all Bitcoiners should adopt. They made money heavy. Satoshi made it digital, but unforgeable.
Holding Bitcoin in cyberspace is like holding the line in a phalanx — each shield interlocked to defend against fiat corruption. Against the Fed printing money and funding infinite war.
The Spartans weren’t bloodthirsty conquerors.
They defended their land. They weren’t aggressors.
Why?
Because the slaves they ruled outnumbered them 7 to 1.
If they ever revolted, it was over.
So the Spartans held the line.
In this brave new world, if I asked you:
Would you rather be free or a slave?
What would you choose?
One of the first movies I ever watched as a kid was A Bug’s Life.
It follows Flik — the chosen one — an inventor ant in a colony where the main job is to harvest grain for the grasshoppers who rule over them.
Flik tried to help the colony, but he stood out. He got exiled, went to explore new lands, and came back with an army of warrior bugs.
There’s a scene where a grasshopper explains to his crew how just one ant doesn’t matter — but dump a pile of grain on your head, and suddenly you remember: we’re outnumbered.
In the end, Flik and his warrior bugs defeat the grasshoppers. Not with violence — but with courage and truth.
Fiat currency is like those grains. The ants work all day harvesting wealth to feed the grasshoppers at the top.
But if the ants stopped playing the game?
If they all held their wealth in cold storage?
The grasshoppers lose. The ants become Spartans. The ants didn’t need more grain. They just needed to realize they had the numbers — and the power was always theirs.
You don’t need to go protest in the streets.
No need to stand in D.C. with a sign.
You can opt out.
Convert your fiat into Bitcoin.
Escape the slavery of a broken system.
If your dollar loses purchasing power every year… why save it?
As the Fed prints endlessly, funding war and debt — you lose.
But as a Bitcoiner, you don’t need to fight.
You just exit.
You just buy the hardest money humanity has ever created.
It’s wild how you can feel the collapse even locally.
Just recently, the street cleaners went on strike. For two weeks, trash piled up all across the city. It stunk like hell.
Why?
Because the money is broken.
Sure, higher wages for workers are necessary — but that doesn’t fix the root problem.
That’s just loosening the rope around their neck.