May 9, 2025 – Philadelphia





And have a peaceful day. Always a pleasure to see you, Saleem. Yeah. Got a beautiful sunrise.
A beautiful day ahead. See you, bro. Rico.
GR, what’s poppin’ people? It’s Dante.
Getting my morning started here in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia. Wow. I don’t know if the GoPro picks this up, but there’s a crazy spider web here. Look at that. Can you get it with the Ricoh?
“Each click of the shutter is me affirming life itself. It’s me saying yes to life.”
What does that mean?
Essentially, I’m eager for the day. I’m eager to catch the sunrise and embrace the spirit of play. There’s just so much to do, to see, to explore, and to photograph.
Life is this endless pursuit of:
And in order to embrace that childlike curiosity, one must enter a flow state.
To enter flow is to forget what you think you know. That means:
With each shutter click, you’re asking:
“Why?”
You’re wondering:
“What’s out there? Who is this? What is this?”
Photography becomes a dialogue with the world—an open, honest curiosity that comes through how you carry yourself every day.
Practical tip for photographers:
Stop taking yourself so seriously.
When you treat the world like a playground—when you’re just a big kid exploring—you enter this exuberant state of being. That’s when you find:
An insatiable lust for life.
It’s like an open-world game.
You gotta level up—physically, mentally, spiritually.
“Artistically, through the use of a camera, we can achieve this goal of transcendence.”
Think of Nietzsche’s metamorphosis in Thus Spoke Zarathustra:
By returning to day one, every day, you enter this endless transformative state.
When you’re hardened by society or overwhelmed by knowledge, it’s the childlike mind that frees you.
That’s where real growth happens.
“I strive to ascend. And the only thing holding me down is gravity.”
Yes, we’re flesh creatures. Yes, we bleed and lust and grieve. But recognizing our mortality?
That awakens the spirit.
Each night is a mini-death.
So when I wake up, I’m full of:
Grateful for:
Photography is drawing with light.
“Perhaps light is truth.”
You start to recognize patterns:
The veins in leaves echo your veins.
The trees grow and branch like the lungs in your chest.
“This, to me, is a beautiful thing—to observe how people move and groove.”
We’re bipedal, upright, visionary beings—capable of crafting tools, building shelters, and transcending.
That feeling of vitality—of overcoming physically?
It’s supreme.
“You soar upwards like an eagle… and nothing can really break your spirit.”
Physical strength brings:
And from there, you rise above material needs.
You don’t care for:
You become light. You become free.
Christians often forget the modern world isn’t it.
We gather wealth, but for what?
“When you realize the meaninglessness of material things, you ascend. You let go. You become light.”
And when you let go, you return to that divine spark within.
You become a creator, not a consumer.
You become godlike.
So stop chasing horizontally. Competing for clout, cars, whatever.
None of it means anything.
“Float upwards like an eagle in flight.”
Let yourself:
That’s the real beauty of life.
Let go of what you think you know.
Understand yourself.
Find peace in the chaos.
From that peace comes:
And then… you return to the child.
To that original womb-like state before birth.
You evolve until you die.
And if nothing else, at least you can make a photograph.
I’ve got:
Yeah, I embrace the material world lightly.
But I never forget: It’s all temporary.
“And perhaps recognizing the finite nature of it all awakens your spirit.”
Embrace the spirit of play.
Wake up each day with gratitude and curiosity.
Say yes to life. Let go. Let it flow.
“I want to be endlessly walking this street, curious about what’s beyond the horizon, following the light, snapshotting my way through life.”
That’s what it means to live.
To play.
To be.
To be an artist is to be free.
You can do, say, and create whatever you want. You can go wherever your spirit takes you—because you are unbound by societal norms, trends, and cultural constraints. Art is pure freedom. It is detachment in its most profound form—one that allows for maximal human flourishing and radical self-expression.
The artist needs nothing from anyone. You are the creator. You possess the power to shape the world as you please. You do not chase meaning. You create it.
You live as Aristotle described in Politics—not as a mere man among the masses, but as something more:
“Man is by nature a political animal; and he who by nature and not by mere accident is without a state is either a bad man or above humanity… he is either a beast or a god.”
Be that god.
Become the Übermensch in the flesh.
Eat like this on top of daily training and fasting every day for 3 months and you will not recognize yourself at the end of your journey

GO CLIMB A TREE
What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.
Today we’re diving into some black and white street photography breakdowns, looking at photographs I’ve been making over the past two and a half years using the Ricoh GR III and high contrast black and white. These are all straight-out-of-camera JPEGs—no post-processing, just pure seeing.
I’m really having fun with this process and I’m eager to share some of the results with you.




This was the first photograph I made during the 2022 Thanksgiving Day Parade with my current setup.
At parades, I like to photograph the peripherals—what’s happening around the action rather than the action itself.
This scene unfolded with children playing on this beautiful sculpture, and I felt the potential immediately:
Key Element: Gesture.
“Look for gestures when you’re on the streets. If hands are moving, I’m intrigued, and I’m going to make a photograph.”
In this frame, the boy gazes at his hand while the Native American sculpture extends his arms outward.
A spiral of gestures naturally forms across the frame — something you could never plan, but your intuition catches it.



Walking near Love Park in Philly, I noticed a man with a blanket over his back.
At first, the moment seemed unremarkable… but I trusted my instinct and photographed anyway.
As he crossed the street, I noticed the relationship between:
Key Technique:
I raised the camera a little above eye level with the LCD, allowing the separation between subject and background.
“The art of street photography composition comes down to eliminating distractions.”
By positioning myself and angling the Ricoh just right, I kept the background clean and let the abstract shape shine.




While walking around Queens, NYC, I made this photograph very quickly using what I call the:
T-Rex Technique — (check out my YouTube for the full breakdown)
Basically, it’s stealth shooting from the hip, using the corner of your eye to frame via the LCD.
Key Point: Speed and Courage.
“Hesitation leads to stagnation. If you feel fear, that’s a good sign. Move forward with courage.”
When you feel fear on the street, it’s actually your signal: make the picture.



Walking around The Vatican during golden hour, I noticed two nuns crossing the street.
The textures of their clothing, the sublime light—it was beautiful. But it was missing something…
So I waited. Patiently.
Suddenly, a passerby reached back to scratch her shoulder — gesture.
I quickly switched from snap focus to single-point autofocus using the FN button on my Ricoh GR IIIx and nailed the shot.
Key Ingredients for this frame:
“Sometimes you’re just waiting for that third element to elevate the mundane into something transcendent.”
Also, highlight-weighted metering is crucial — exposing for highlights and crushing shadows to create that deep chiaroscuro.




This shot was not luck.
I spent weeks returning to the same spot at City Hall, Philadelphia, studying:
“Force your luck through repetition, discipline, and vision.”
My goal was to capture a pigeon interacting with the William Penn sculpture—a spontaneous but predictable moment if you observe long enough.
Finally, through patience and consistent study of the location, I caught the bird aligned perfectly with William Penn against a beautiful flare of sunrise light.
Lesson:
You make your luck on the streets through:
Hopefully, you learned something today about black and white street photography, gesture, light, intuition, and flow.
If you’d like to see more, check out:
“Follow the light, trust your intuition, and always say yes to the street.”
See you in the next one.
Peace.
I don’t need to convince anybody to buy bitcoin because that is not my concern, it’s just the fact that it’s something that genuinely matters and will matter even more as time goes on- so it’s best to at least be aware of it. It’s like lighting a candle in the darkness or planting the seed of freedom. Sharing the news of bitcoin is like giving a compass for the souls in a rigged rat race.

Bitcoin Nears $100K: May 2025 Update
As of May 8, 2025, Bitcoin (BTC) is trading just under $100,000, currently around $99,680, marking a significant psychological and financial milestone in its trajectory.
📈 Key Highlights
- BTC Price:
$99,680- Intraday High:
$99,835- Intraday Low:
$95,959- 24-Hour Change:
+2.9%
📰 Major Developments
🇺🇸 U.S. Trade Deal Optimism
President Trump hinted at an upcoming trade agreement—possibly with the UK—which has boosted overall market sentiment, contributing to the recent Bitcoin rally.
Source → Coindesk🏦 Strategic Bitcoin Reserve
In March 2025, Trump signed an executive order creating a Strategic Bitcoin Reserve using over $17 billion in seized BTC, positioning the U.S. as a global digital asset leader.
Source → Investopedia🏛️ State-Level Bitcoin Adoption
New Hampshire has authorized investing up to 5% of its public funds into Bitcoin and other digital assets—marking a historic moment for state-level crypto adoption.
Source → Business Insider🧠 Institutional Accumulation
MicroStrategy continues to lead the charge, now holding 553,555 BTC, valued at approximately $37.9 billion, doubling down on Bitcoin as a treasury reserve asset.
Source → MarketWatch
🔮 Future Outlook
Analysts are increasingly optimistic:
“Bitcoin could reach $250,000 by the end of 2025, and even $1 million by 2030, as it solidifies its role as the digital gold of our era.”
Forecast Source → Finance Magnates
With strong macro trends, state and federal support, and institutional confidence, the road to six figures and beyond may be closer than ever.
💡 Final Thought:
In a world of collapsing trust, Bitcoin remains a beacon of transparency, ownership, and financial self-determination.Stack wisely. Share freely.


After spending the past decade learning all the rules and mastering street photography, I realized it was time to break everything I thought I knew and rebuild from the ground up. In order to create something new, an artist must destroy themselves. Through that destruction, you’re reborn—like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
Now I move forward each day in the spirit of life, photographing prolifically thanks to the small JPEG limitations, streamlined workflow, and speed that the Ricoh GR provides me.
I think doing the same thing forever is boring. If I were to shoot color endlessly, I’d probably just end up making the same pictures over and over again. But by stripping away color and abstracting reality, the world becomes an infinite canvas for me to create upon. Everything feels novel again.
I’m back to day one, each and every day.
This is where I seek to be, endlessly:
An amateur forever. A student of the street.
Why iPad Pro is superior- also I got some gymnastic rings! Time to bring back my off the grid village fitness from my peace corps service in Zambia

What’s poppin people? It’s Dante.
To enter the flow, one must forget everything they think they know.
Today I want to talk about flow state — specifically how to achieve flow in street photography. Flow state is when you’re so immersed in doing something that time fades, distractions disappear, and you become fully absorbed in the act of making photographs.
Flow isn’t exclusive to photography. You can find it in writing, climbing trees, dancing — anything that requires total presence. But when I’m on the street, flow state becomes my natural mode. No thoughts, just vision. Pure instinct.
“I don’t leave the scene until the scene leaves me.”
It’s about entering a state of no-mind. The world reveals itself through light, texture, and fleeting gesture — and I respond with my gut.
Here’s the secret: you’ve got to subtract, not add.
“My next photograph is my best photograph.”
You move. You make a photo. You move again. No attachment. No judgment. Everything is in flux.
Stay in a fasted state. No food = no brain fog. Fasting clears the mind and sharpens the eyes.
“Photographers have decision fatigue because their guts are full. Fast, and you’ll think clearer and react quicker.”
Your brain and gut are deeply connected. Don’t weigh them down.
I always recommend the Ricoh GR III. It’s minimalist. It’s pocketable. It doesn’t get in your way.
It’s the closest thing to having no camera at all.
Literally. Or use Vibram FiveFingers EL-X. Feel the ground. Slow down.
“If you want to enter the flow state, go barefoot. You’ll naturally slow down and start to notice everything.”
Street photography is about slowing your pace and heightening awareness.
I walk at 75% the pace of everyone around me. I’m not trying to get somewhere — I’m trying to see.
Forget about inspiration. Forget motivation as a mindset.
“Motivation is movement. And through movement comes improvement.”
Pick up your camera. Walk out the door. Don’t wait for lightning to strike.
I become a flâneur — a wanderer of the city, soaking in chaos. Sounds, textures, people, graffiti, gestures. Everything fuels me.
Street photography becomes meditation. Flow becomes a way of life.
“You’re not out hunting. You’re snapshotting your way through life.”
You live slow, move light, and stay open.
You don’t need to live forever. But at least you can make a photograph.
Stay fasted. Stay grounded. Stay curious.
And let life flow toward you.
– Dante

For the past few weeks, I’ve been looking through my work, breaking down my compositions by drawing over them with marker and my iPad. I believe that composition is the glue that holds together any work of art—whether it’s a photograph, music, architecture, painting, or drawing.
I believe it is the duty of a photographer—or any artist, for that matter—to embrace the unknown, taking risks, headfirst into danger, with courage and curiosity at the forefront, putting order to chaos within our work.
Think of a sculptor, working alongside the laws of physics. Think particularly of the sculptures that are positioned on top of the columns in City Hall, Philadelphia. The danger and risk required to build those structures—whether it’s the sculpture itself or the architecture—is unfathomable to me as a mere mortal, viewing this grand work from the ground level.
The horizontal plane, or what we could call the material world, is very base. You have your food, your shelter, your material things that you use on a day-to-day basis—your phone, your computer, tablet, camera, etc.
But the vertical plane, towards the heavens, is much more interesting, lofty, and uplifting for the spirit. I believe the human is more than merely a physical vessel—we are a spiritual vessel who carries the light within.
That light within is like a fire that charges the soul, that sets us in motion—through our mind, how we think, feel, and respond to the stimuli of this world. The material world only provides epiphenomena: the cold air on your skin, the warmth of a bath, a good meal of red meat.
These are important—they nourish your body and prepare you for tomorrow. But if you become too focused on the material—on grinding in the gym, solely on the physical—you’ll find it becomes base, boring, and banal.
Once you’ve built up strength and vitality, you begin to seek something more. Something that propels you beyond the horizontal.
I find my true strength comes through God, a connection to the divine, through prayer and gratitude.
When you start your day with prayer, in silence, in nature—this is a form of spiritual nourishment that can’t be found in food, sleep, or comfort.
Every artist needs a source of inspiration. And perhaps the ultimate source of inspiration for any artist should be the divine. Our Creator breathed life into us—and that very breath is what gives us the power to create.
Let’s look at the etymology of the word composition:
Composition literally means putting together.
When you go out into the world to create photographs, there’s so much chaos to indulge in. This chaos, I believe, is what fuels us. It’s the frenzy of the street corner—the bustling markets, the horns honking, the people shouting, talking, chattering. All of it is raw inspiration.
So the question becomes:
How do we put order to all this within the frame?
How do we compose from the chaos of everyday life?
Through analyzing my photographs, I’ve started to recognize the instinct—that gut feeling—that guides me. It’s not the two eyes, but the whole body. It’s the feet walking the streets, it’s the sense of pattern, rhythm, light, and movement.
That decisive moment, when everything aligns, comes from intuition.
You can study the fundamentals of composition forever—but to create one, you must also learn how to feel.
When I go out into the world, I follow my intuition. My gut tells me to turn left, not right. To walk one more block.
You have to throw logic out the window and enter the flow state.
Don’t walk the same path every day. Don’t repeat yourself.
To make a strong composition, you must let go. Forget what you think you know. Forget what a composition “should” be.
Many of my best photographs haven’t been made at eye level. A lot come from hip level—the perspective of a child.
Think of a child, filled with wonder, looking down at leaves, up at the clouds and trees and sun. Through that childlike perspective, we may find more compelling images.
When you walk through the world with the spirit of play, everything else falls into place.
When I say this, I mean:
Photography is about how you engage with humanity.
A photograph is just your body’s position in space relative to your subject and background. That’s it.
But the way you feel about life—the way you treat people, the way you interact with the world—that’s what reflects back in your photos.
I seek to uplift humanity. To raise it to something transcendental.
The world today aims for mediocrity. Everything looks the same. Box buildings. AI-generated images. Slick perfection.
But the best photographs are imperfect, organic, authentic, fluid.
Imperfection is perfection.
Let us play on the edge between order and chaos. Let us shoot from the gut. Let us trust the instinct. That’s how we’ll create stronger compositions.
Composition matters because it’s what we see when we look at a photograph.
You’re not hearing a photo. You’re looking at it.
If it’s flat, it probably relies too much on a moment, or subject, or character.
But a strong photograph combines the content and the composition. That’s what holds it together. That’s what makes it stick.
Let’s come back to the vertical.
If our goal is to uplift humanity as artists, we must remember: we are bound to the horizontal plane.
We are flesh. We bleed. We feel sorrow, pain, greed. We lust, we fall short. This is our divine design.
But through art—through creating photographs, music, sculpture, poetry—we can strive upward.
We can uplift the world in front of us.
Life is worth living because we strive upward despite being bound by gravity.
We move into the unknown, in the face of danger. We seek order in chaos. This is where I thrive.
And maybe—just maybe—through composition, we can move from the horizontal to the vertical.
Upwards.
When you wake up in the morning, are you full of enthusiasm for the day? This becomes a very important — an existential question — to ask yourself, as we only have today. Tomorrow is just a figment of your imagination.
Think about it: waking up, dreading the day, feeling sluggish, with the mentality that you hear all the time…
“It’s just another day…”
or
“Another day, another dollar…”
is a complete lack of vitality and spirit — or simply, enthusiasm for the day.
When you look at the word enthusiasm, its etymological roots derive from:
Or more specifically:
enthousiasmos — having a God within
This excitement, this eagerness for the day, fuels through me each and every morning. When I wake up, the first thing I do is attack.
I strap on my 40-pound plate carrier, I hit the pull-up bar, do some push-ups, some dumbbell exercises, some yoga, etc. I hit the coffee, make a video, do some writing, script out some future lectures, and go for a nature hike.
When I hit the nature hike and I’m surrounded by beauty — from the trees, the feeling of the breeze, the sun kissing my skin — despite whether or not it’s a cloudy or rainy day, I feel this insatiable lust for life flowing through me.
It derives from that childlike curiosity that I possess — like I’m possessed by a god, the root of what it means to be enthusiastic.
When I listen to the birds chirping, and the beautiful songs of the bugs humming, it’s like I’m having a communion with the gods, and I’m just so eager, so enthusiastic, so excited to put my body in motion.
The word motivation derives from:
movere — to move
In order to become motivated, one must move their physical body. The problem with modern life is that we are sedentary for most of our days — which is an ultimate tragedy, I believe.
Honestly, I think boredom, stagnation, and the inability to move your physical body throughout the day is the ultimate demise of humankind right now.
It’s actually something that makes me feel really sad — almost like I just have this compassion for the modern world in a way — as it’s so tragic, so life-denying, that we sequester ourselves indoors.
I believe that our bodies are like batteries, and the sun is the charger.
The best way to rest is to simply lay out in the grass, to absorb the sun’s rays. Anytime there’s sun out, I make sure to hit the park, remove my shirt, and absorb the sun for at least 30 minutes to an hour.
After spending this time in the sun, I feel so recharged — with so much more exuberance of energy. It’s like we are flowers, just like the plants undergoing photosynthesis. And in order to complete that charge within your circuit, you need to plug yourself into the sun itself.
The honest answer to this question is: I just simply assume that today will be my last day, and that I may not wake up tomorrow.
Because of this, everything that comes to me in the morning is in abundance.
The simple pleasures of walking, drinking clean water, coffee, making art, reading, surrounding myself in nature’s beauty — this is enough for me to feel enthusiastic.
I think I feel so much enthusiasm, genuinely, because I have a deep connection to God.
My relationship with God has come full circle, to a point where nothing can break my spirit. Nothing can break my lust for life because I put all of my faith within God.
When you look at the word itself — enthusiasm — it makes sense, doesn’t it?
I never feel lonely, despite being alone, because I know that I have a strong relationship with the Creator. When you have that strong relationship with something higher — the divine — you can’t help but smile, and move onward into the chaos with a strong gait, walking, moving, and conquering each day.
This is what gives me strength.
This is my true source of vitality.
This is what uplifts my spirit and fuels me with enthusiasm for the day.
It’s my relationship with the Most High.
What does success look like in the modern world?
Paying your bills, reporting on time, making the quota, advancing your business endeavors, buying the fancy car, marrying that supermodel… all of these base-level goals mean nothing to me.
There’s more to life than just paying your bills, surviving, or even achieving any sort of material success.
While I understand the horizontal plane of this material world is something we have to acknowledge — as I need food, shelter, clothes on my back, etc. — there’s something really base and meaningless when this becomes your day-to-day life.
However, aligning myself vertically, towards the divine, I find so much more rich meaning and fulfillment in my life.
I encourage you to deeply contemplate what this means, and how you can achieve this inner peace through a connection to something greater.
It’s truly life-affirming, and life-fulfilling, when you find deep meaning in your everyday life because of it.
Life can feel like doom and gloom, or meaningless, when you’re simply going through the motions and surviving.
But when you’re full of enthusiasm, striving onwards and upwards —
I believe that we can truly thrive.
Yesterday I did my famous walk behind the Philadelphia Museum of Art, along the River Trail, and stood atop the cliff, overlooking the beautiful tree canopy, the rushing river and waterfall, Fairmount Park’s Greek-inspired architecture that sits just below the cliff. I gazed out toward the boathouses, and beyond the horizon—at this incredible storm cloud that was brewing in the sky. The light and shadow play in the sky during the stormy day is sublime.
When I consider this notion of the sublime, I think about the emotional response a beautiful site gives me. There’s an overwhelming feeling that flows through me when I feel the sensation of the sublime.
It’s almost a feeling that makes you want to cry, or simply just evokes any sort of emotional response to you as a viewer of that beautiful thing.
The sublime is beyond beauty. For instance, I can put four corners around a beautiful flower, and say, “ha ha, yes, this is beautiful.” But the sublime goes beyond this notion of beauty, where you find a deep sense of appreciation for that beautiful thing that resonates on an emotional level—beyond the simple visual pleasure of gazing at it.
And so, as I looked out towards the horizon on this very stormy day, standing on top of the cliff, I felt this overwhelming feeling of the sublime. There’s this feeling you get through recognizing how connected we all are—from the smallest atoms in your body to the grandness of the universe and the stars above. That feeling flows through me when I stand at this location.
I find street photography to be a very powerful medium, because it gives you a deep appreciation for the fleeting moments that are otherwise overlooked.
The photographer possesses the superpower to uplift the ordinary to an extraordinary height.
I believe great art has the power to transcend this world—to create a new world—through the medium. Our goal, our duty, is to elevate the world around us to a transcendental height—something that goes beyond this notion of beauty, inching toward the sublime.
It’s the duty of the artist to embrace the unknown, to move forward into the chaos, and to put order to it.
When I stand on top of a cliff, looking out towards the stormy, beautiful sky, I’m standing in the face of the unknown, which can be a bit dangerous. However, by embracing danger—and openly inviting chaos—I believe we can achieve the sublime.
The sublime is something we can evoke visually through the aesthetic choices of black-and-white, crushing the shadows, exposing for the highlights, and invoking a sense of deep mystery within our frames.
Yes, I believe aesthetics are critical in the realm of art. Honestly, everything is aesthetic. The aesthetic of architecture can even evoke the sublime. I believe architecture is one of the highest forms of art, due to the way in which man transcends the laws of physics—striving upwards—building, despite the gravity that holds us down.
Yesterday, I also walked along the Benjamin Franklin Bridge, looking out towards the same stormy sky. And it’s just an incredible sight to witness—those beautiful clouds from a high vantage point. But the sheer existence of the Benjamin Franklin Bridge itself evokes the sublime. It’s an incredible work of architecture and engineering—a symbol of man striving for excellence.
It’s the same feeling I get when I stand in the center of the Wanamaker building, looking up toward the high ceiling, listening to a beautiful piece of music from the world’s largest playing pipe organ. Or standing inside the Sistine Chapel, looking up at Michelangelo’s paintings—or any Roman Catholic Church for that matter.
This feeling overwhelms me. It gives you chills. It raises the hairs on your skin.
When I walk through the mall, and I observe all of the commerce that’s occurring—the infrastructure, the people sitting down, eating, walking, shopping, observing all the different pieces of clothing and goods being sold—there is something sublime about this mundane experience.
I think when you have a deep appreciation for the simple pleasures in life—like walking, observing, feeling the different surfaces beneath your feet, or the rain on your skin, or the warmth of the sun piercing through your eyes—these simple pleasures go beyond beauty.
They’re sublime.
This deep appreciation for life punches me in the gut.
The most mundane situations—like waiting for the bus on a rainy day, or walking along the river in the spirit of play, simply following the sunlight, or spending time in a park—are enough for me to feel an emotional response to the world around me.
Maybe it’s due to me having a more sensitive perception about things. I’m definitely much more right-brain, and I have a heightened sense of intuition. I believe through that intuition—following it—and photographing from your gut, you can evoke the sublime through the visual aesthetics of a photograph.
The sublime goes beyond beauty. The sublime goes beyond putting four corners around a moment and saying “yes.”
To evoke the sublime requires the photographer to have a deep appreciation for life—a deep presence in the moment—reflecting back their soul in the photograph they make.
Not apathy—but a deep appreciation for the feelings, thoughts, and experiences that come and go, without needing or desiring anything.
For instance, love—you can feel genuine, unconditional love for somebody and still be detached from the outcome of anything manifesting from that feeling in reality. You transmute the energy of love into a creative act: writing poetry, photography, etc.—and you find power in that.
Or anger—you transmute that energy into pure vitality and physical power.
And of course, validation—letting go of external praise or even hate is pure power, in the sense that you are no longer doing anything for an outcome. You do something purely for the love of doing it.
Every single morning, when I ride the bus, I snapshot out the window—practicing the same exact shot of the same exact landscape every single day. There’s something to be said about mastery, about timer photography, and how we can achieve greatness through repetition. I believe that repetition and consistency are what lead to success in any endeavor in life. Photography is no different.
The more you walk, the more you see.
The more you see, the more you photograph.
The more you photograph, the more curious you become.
The more curious you become, the more you go out there and achieve the goal of making more photographs.
One of my favorite things to do is stand on top of a cliff, a mountain, or a bridge with a vantage point, where I can look out and see the horizon. When you have a panopticon view of your surroundings from an elevated position, it fuels you with inspiration.
I don’t believe you find inspiration in people, or even in words, books, etc. The purest form of inspiration comes from nature, from the source of creation—the divine. When you tune out the noise and listen to your inner conscience, especially in the wilderness—on a trail, in the woods, on a hill, away from the hustle and bustle—you can truly hear your inner voice calling.
Think of Elijah, the prophet, rising to the mountain, listening to his conscience, after fleeing Queen Jezebel and hiding in a cave. While he was in that cave, he heard loud sounds—wind, an earthquake, and then fire. But after the fire, he heard a still, small voice. His conscience. It told him to rise and return to the world.
For the past two years straight, I’ve marched in the wilderness along the trail in Philadelphia, rising to the mountain behind the Philadelphia Museum of Art, standing on the cliff each and every day. I’ve canceled out all the noise and simply listened to my inner voice—my conscience—and allowed that to guide me back into the world, finding my place in the chaos of urban life.
When I walk along this trail:
This is where I seek to be. Eliminate decisions. Eliminate fatigue. The mental fog of endless decisions clouds our perception and fills our lives with noise.
Think of your camera choices—endless brands, lenses, features. But by eliminating all these decisions and sticking to one camera, one lens, and moving forward daily with repetition, you can achieve mastery.
Even in food—there are a million options. But if you eat the same thing every day, at the same time, you’ll find discipline and vitality. The more physical vitality you feel, the sharper your thoughts become—and your spirit will rise to new heights.
When I consider spirit, I think about the Holy Spirit, in the Catholic tradition: The Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit.
I believe the Holy Spirit is the conscience. That inner voice that calls you out into the world to do, to think, to create, to explore. It tells you what’s right, what’s wrong. But the conscience can also become corrupted—especially if it arises from weakness.
Consider this:
Which person is more likely to seek power over others?
The answer might surprise you. It’s Person A—because those who feel powerless often envy the strong. They may lash out with bitterness, jealousy, or hate.
My theory:
But the strong man—full of vitality—will uplift others.
This is not absolute, but there’s wisdom in it. Epictetus taught that we should only focus on what’s within our control. That’s where real power lies. If you chase what’s outside your control, you will feel powerless. And when you feel powerless, your content of character suffers.
True power: Physical, mental, and spiritual vitality
Weakness: Chasing what’s outside your control
On the bus ride to work, there are these children who sing and chant with joy. They remind me: life is not that serious.
When you embrace your inner child, everything becomes play. When you rise early to catch the sunrise and feel its warmth on your skin, it fills you with love. And when you’re full of that love, you naturally want to share it.
The future man I envision is:
He changes the world not by force, but by being the change:
These small acts create ripples. They only come from inner abundance.
During my Peace Corps service in Zambia, I learned the power of water.
Every village had a church (for moral/spiritual vitality) and a well (for physical vitality). But a well needs a source. Without it, the well runs dry.
We are the well.
God is the source.
If you tap into the source, you overflow with life—able to nourish others.
I’m surrounded by trees every day at the Centennial Arboretum. Some date back to 1876. There’s one towering tree that stuns me every time I see it.
Its limbs stretch to the sky. Its roots are deep in the soil.
We too must become like trees:
And when we grow tall, we bear fruit—sweet, plump, nourishing figs. This is the fruit of our spirit: kindness, love, light.
When you grow your roots into the earth and rise to the sun, you bear fruit that feeds the world.
Grow deep.
Reach high.
Bear fruit.
And fly like a dove.
A free spirit.
For the past week, I’ve been experimenting with drinking raw milk, and I’ve even been mixing it with raw honey. I’ve been practicing a 100% carnivore diet for two and a half years now, and I’ve never felt this powerful in my entire life. But ever since I started training at a boxing gym six weeks ago—alongside some HIIT training and Ashtanga yoga—I’ve been upping the intensity on top of my morning strength training. Because of this, I’m starting to think more about recovery, longevity, and new protocols for muscle repair.
Every morning and night, I take hot baths with Epsom salt followed by cold showers. As I lay in the hot, boiling water and start to sweat, I feel so rejuvenated after stepping out of the cold. What I’ve realized is this: if you take proper recovery measures, you don’t even need to take rest days. You can just keep going—with raw power, vitality—and the Epsom salt baths seem to be playing a major role.
In the morning, I like to hydrate with water and take a small dab of raw honey mixed with pink Himalayan salt. It feels like salt helps carry the minerals through the body, and combining it with honey—or with my new evening ritual of raw milk—seems to genuinely help with recovery.
I’m starting to feel something insatiable growing in me—this overpowering energy. The surprising thing is, I’ve been feeling this power while remaining completely fasted all day until sunset. I train on an empty stomach and eat only one meal a day. But when you fill your body with real nutrients—meat, liver, salt, water, raw milk, raw honey, raw cheese—you tap into the most ancient, primal source of force and power you can possibly consume.
I find it interesting that the Promised Land—Israel—is called the land of milk and honey. There may be deep truth to this. A land of milk speaks to richness and nourishment from cattle, while honey is a symbol of delicacy and luxury. But the Promised Land, I think, is more than a geographic location or a metaphysical heaven—it’s an internal state.
We create heaven on earth. The Kingdom is within. There’s a reason why Jesus said this.
If you’re waking up each morning dreading the day, stuck in a life you hate, pacifying yourself with TV and junk food at night, that’s hell on earth. But if you rise with raw power, vitality, curiosity, and eagerness—fueling your day with love for what you do—you’ve created paradise.
To create heaven on earth, you must obey and listen to the highest power: God. Everything else falls into place.
Take Moses leading the Israelites out of slavery. At the border of the Promised Land, God tells Moses to ask the rocks for water. But Moses doesn’t listen—he strikes the rocks instead. And because of this disobedience, he never enters the Promised Land.
What I take from this is: you must listen to God—not society, not politicians, teachers, friends, parents. Your intuition may seem “crazy” like speaking to rocks, but it’s your direct line to the divine.
That voice inside you is the path to the Kingdom.
We all have this godlike intuition, but the noise of modern life drowns it out. The city, the phone, the screens, the algorithm—it confuses people, blinds them to what they truly want.
The only way to hear that voice is to step away.
Go into the wilderness. Literally. Walk the nature path. Surround yourself with beauty. Silence the chatter and you’ll hear the call. But if you drown that voice in consumption and distraction, you’ll never find it.
I can only speak for myself, but I genuinely believe I’ve found heaven on earth. I was doing social media work that drained my soul. So I quit. I was jobless for over a year. But in that silence, I listened to God.
And it led me to a life I resonate with on the deepest level. Now I work a job I love. I’ve found inner peace. It all came from obeying the voice within—without fear.
You need courage to listen to intuition. Cancel the noise, and you’ll finally hear it. And once you hear it, obey it. Submit to it. Then life unfolds the way it should. And in that unfolding, you’ll find peace, clarity, purpose, and meaning.
If you had to relive today for the rest of eternity—would you thrive?
This is the ultimate existential question. Even more important than confronting death. Because when you accept mortality, you ask: Am I living well?
You realize life is repetition. So you better live in a way that you can affirm it—again and again.
Wake up eager to see the sunrise. Eager to move your body. Eager to walk forward. Think of Sisyphus rolling the stone uphill, again and again. Is life suffering? Maybe. But can you affirm it? Yes.
I believe true freedom only comes from true physical vitality.
When David faced Goliath, he was just a small shepherd boy. But he had courage. He armed himself with God and stepped into the unknown. One clean shot. The beast fell.
Without courage, David would’ve never become King.
So muster courage. Face what’s in front of you. Overcome it. Become King of your own internal kingdom.
Create paradise.
Be the creator.
Why waste your time squandering your potential when you could live meaningfully?
Time is our greatest currency. Spend it well.
Because you could die tomorrow.
So ask yourself:
Would you rather die a good boy—on time, obedient, and forgettable?
Or would you rather die knowing you moved forward with raw power, vitality, and purpose—carving your own path, living a life that meant something?
I’ve been thinking a lot about childlike curiosity lately, and what it means to return to being a child. I first started to think more about this after reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche, where he discusses the three metamorphoses of the spirit: first, the Camel, then the Lion, and finally, the Child.
First, you are a Camel, carrying as much of the world’s weight on your back as you can. Then you become a Lion, carving your own path and living on your own terms. Finally, you transform into a Child.
When I think about the final evolution being a Child, it makes sense: a child has endless potential for growth, isn’t yet hardened by societal norms, or trapped by what they think they know about the world. A child has infinite potential.
Think about it: a child has no rights.
In the ancient Greek and Roman worlds, children were often sold into slavery, forced into labor, and had no rights in society. A child has no identity, relying entirely on the guidance of a parent or figure of authority.
Now, if you think about the child submitting to the ultimate authority, that authority would be God.
If you think about the ultimate hierarchy for a functioning society, it is:
I spent a year in a rural village in Zambia, Africa, amongst the Bemba tribe. I learned the local language and worked in fish farming. During my time there, I was integrated into a local family, becoming a surrogate member of the Bemba tribe.
At the center of my village, there was a church. This church was the foundation and the rock that held down the community. Everybody gathered there, and at the center of the church was the altar — the place of sacrifice — where everyone reminded themselves of the archetype, the hero, Jesus Christ.
Because everyone gathered at the church, they submitted to God’s will and put Him at the top of the hierarchy.
Everyone in the village was driving upwards, sharing land horizontally across families, while striving vertically toward God.
The family unit was the ultimate authority. Everyone within the family and the tribe had a role to play:
There was a certain human thriving I witnessed in these rural villages of Zambia that I have never seen before — and certainly feel is neglected in the West today.
I believe it has to do with the correct hierarchy: God, Tribe, and Land.
In the United States, we are obsessed with individualism, consumerism, and differentiating ourselves by purchasing things. However, I believe in true individualism.
If you look at the word identity, it derives from the Latin word idem, meaning “the same.”
Essentially, the more people consume and the more they identify with external things, the more they actually become the same — and not true individuals at all.
A child does not subscribe to political ideologies, go to stores to buy things, identify with religious practices, or follow dogmas and traditions.
A child is merely a slave to authority.
A child has no real idea of what is right or wrong until they engage in play with other children and learn how to form interpersonal relationships.
To be a child, once again, is to have no fixed identity — to be a complete slave to God’s will.
In the first book of the Bible, the Old Testament’s Genesis, God makes a covenant with man, with Abraham.
God’s promise to Abraham was:
Once again: the ultimate hierarchy — God, Tribe, Land.
When God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac, Isaac voluntarily offered his body for sacrifice, carrying the wood willingly, submitting to God.
As Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son, God intervened and replaced Isaac with a ram.
Fast-forward 2,000 years later:
In the New Testament, we see Jesus carrying his cross, in the same general region of Jerusalem.
Jesus voluntarily sacrificed His flesh and body — the ultimate fulfillment of the New Covenant.
One of Jesus Christ’s most famous teachings was that in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, you must return to being a child:
“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
(Matthew 18:3, ESV)
Perhaps to return to being a child is to strip away your identity, voluntarily pick up your cross, and embrace the suffering and burden of life itself, becoming a slave to God’s will.
Especially as artists, maybe it is most important to embrace life with purity, innocence, and a natural trust that everything happens as it should — despite the cynicism and negativity modern society imposes upon us.
The horizontal plane — the material world, wealth, fame, fortune — is merely a distraction.
We must embrace simplicity, the divine connection on the vertical plane, striving upwards and beyond the material, toward the metaphysical world through the act of creation.
Perhaps, after all, the creation of art is the closest thing to touching the metaphysical plane.

In the ancient days of gods and mortals, a grand wedding was held on Mount Pelion. The sea-nymph Thetis was to be wed to the mortal hero Peleus, and every god and goddess of Olympus was invited—except one: Eris, the goddess of strife and discord.
Angered by the exclusion, Eris devised a plan to sow chaos. She arrived uninvited and cast into the banquet hall a single golden apple, gleaming and inscribed with three fateful words:
“To the fairest.”
Immediately, three powerful goddesses claimed the apple:
Unable to decide between them, Zeus delegated the judgment to a mortal: Paris, prince of Troy, known for his fairness.
Each goddess attempted to sway Paris with a bribe:
Paris, tempted by beauty, awarded the golden apple to Aphrodite.
But Helen was already married to King Menelaus of Sparta. When Paris took her to Troy, it sparked a furious response from the Greeks. Kings and warriors united to reclaim her, launching a war that would last ten years—the legendary Trojan War.
Thus, from one golden apple of discord, bloomed a war of epic proportions.
Moral: Even a single slight—an uninvited guest, a small object, a moment of vanity—can unravel empires.
What’s poppin people? It’s Dante.
Today we’re breaking down some of my favorite photographs from the past decade of traveling and photographing around the world. You’re getting a behind-the-scenes look at the stories, the compositions, the intuition — all of it. Let’s get into it.




This photograph was made in Jericho after I had just finished praying with a group of brothers in a masjid. I had traveled to Jerusalem to study at Hebrew University and spent six months exploring Israel and the West Bank. Jericho became my weekend escape — bus ride in, camera out.
“I don’t leave the scene until the scene leaves me.”
I was outside the mosque after Salah, just sipping tea with a group of guys, when two men embraced with a kiss. The background was clean, the moment was pure, and I layered the frame using the man’s hand and coffee cup in the foreground. No logos, no timestamps — just a timeless, tender photograph.







Summertime in Philly — guys showing off their bikes. This image came together through observation and physical positioning.
It started with a glance. A man on his bike, just arriving, locked eyes with me. I engaged him in conversation. I noticed the mirror and how it echoed the shape of his helmet. Then, I moved my body. I adjusted. I finessed the composition until:
“Photography is a physical medium. You have to move your body to make the composition click.”




Shot in Varsova, Mumbai, where I would head to the beach for sunsets. The light, not the location, is what drew me in.
Two girls were adjusting their makeup in the foreground. In the background, another girl carried a boy on her hip — perfect separation, dynamic tension, and layered narrative.
“Embrace the spirit of play. Photography is child’s play for grown-ups with cameras.”




Peace Corps. Lake Bangweulu. Baptisms and daily life at the Seventh Day Adventist camp.
The boy on the left? That’s Bwaglia Jr., my host brother. We gathered water, rode bikes, swam, climbed trees. I made this photograph from above, using the blue lake as a background to remove distractions. The bather takes up half the frame. Three boys fill the other.
“Photography is a visual puzzle. Fill the frame with meaning, and eliminate the noise.”





This one was all about patience and stage-setting. I found a choke point at the dog beach, saw a potential background with nice light and geometry, and waited.
Two dogs ran into the foreground. People played in the middle ground. A couple hugged in the back.
“This isn’t luck — this is fishing. You set your stage and wait for life to walk in.”
The backdrop of the sand and sea gave structure and space for each layer to breathe.
Street photography isn’t about gear or theory — it’s about being present. It’s about:
Want to dive deeper into my process? Check out my Start Here page on the blog for tutorials, contact sheets, and everything I’ve learned on the streets.
Stay sharp. Stay curious.
– Dante
When you wake up strap on your 40lb plate carrier, do some strength training and deep creative work- photography, video, slideshow creation, writing, etc. Not for “self improvement” but for self mastery
Nietzsche emphasized doing the hardest tasks first as a sign of strength, discipline, and the will to power. In “The Gay Science”, section 304, he writes:
“What is it that distinguishes those who are noble? That they are capable of reverence—and of giving themselves tasks.”
And in “Ecce Homo”, he says:
“I know my lot. One day my name will be associated with the memory of something tremendous—a crisis without equal on earth, the most profound collision of conscience, a decision conjured up against everything that had been believed, demanded, and held sacred so far. I am not a man, I am dynamite.”
While not directly phrased as “do the hardest task first,” his philosophy encourages confronting discomfort, chaos, and difficulty head-on. He believed one must will suffering and hardship as a path to growth and greatness:
“What does not kill me makes me stronger.” (Twilight of the Idols)
And in “Thus Spoke Zarathustra”, he speaks of the three metamorphoses—camel, lion, child—where the camel is the stage of bearing heavy burdens:
“What is heavy? thus asks the load-bearing spirit; thus it kneels down like the camel and wants to be well laden.”
This metaphor implies choosing to carry difficult responsibilities, voluntarily taking on weighty challenges as the first step in transformation.