There is a kind of beauty that only reveals itself in distance. Neighborhood captures the quiet poetry of a small American city—not as a place of belonging, but as a landscape of longing. The images are steeped in a soft melancholia, romanticized not by memory, but by the impossibility of ever calling them my own. These streets, these homes, these everyday moments—they belong to someone else’s nostalgia. I can only observe, lingering on the outside, tracing the edges of a past that was never mine.

To those who grew up here, these scenes might feel too ordinary to notice. But in their quietness, I see something else—a stillness heavy with stories, a kind of sadness that comes from being too familiar, too known, too overlooked. What is mundane to some can feel deeply cinematic to others, and it is in this shift of perception that Neighborhood takes shape.

This work is not about nostalgia itself, but about the longing to feel it—about the way we romanticize what we can never truly be a part of. It is an attempt to reclaim the unnoticed, to frame the ordinary in a way that allows it to be felt anew. In this quiet, in this distance, there is a beauty worth seeing.