I read every comment with gratitude. Replies may come slowly, but each one matters to me. 
I see you. I thank you. Welcome to fotoperfect.Blog.
✨“FotoPerfect is more than pictures —memories in bloom.
It’s a gallery of stories, colours, and moments I’ve captured. Every post is a glimpse into how I see the world through both lens and heart —where petals meet pixels, and stories bloom—one sunrise, one memory, one garden moment at a time. This is where I capture light, love, and life through my lens and my roots. Thank you for visiting—may you find beauty here, even in the quietest frames.
New Year’s Eve in Brisbane 🎆
DJFotoperfect
“Between the cliffs and the sea—the calm I keep coming back to”
DJFotoPerfect
After The Storm: A Personal Reflection
When my husband died, it felt as if everything died with him. I was a shell moving through days I couldn’t name. I didn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. The house we shared felt like a stranger’s place — I couldn’t even walk inside without breaking. For months I stayed at a friend’s home, just trying to breathe, trying to make it through each night.
Those months were a blur of numbness. People spoke, the world moved, but it felt like I had been left behind in another place. I thought the storm had ended, but in truth, I was still inside it, waiting for the sky to clear.
Even when I tried to return to work, the grief followed me. I would break down before my bosses without warning, tears I couldn’t control. And when people offered their condolences, instead of comfort, it felt unbearable. I couldn’t accept the words, because they reminded me again of what I had lost. There was no escape — the storm was inside me, and it reminded me he was gone everywhere I went.
Two years later, someone came into my life, and everything began to shift. Slowly, he picked up the pieces of me I thought I had lost forever, and in his presence, the world started to make sense again. He is the reason I am here now. Even when the tears came — and they came so many times — he didn’t turn away. He knew, and still he stayed.
“Read the rest of my journey”- (The storm behind the blooms)
A reason to live.
Because of him, I began to breathe differently. I started doing the things I had missed. I started living
again. Taking joy in small things-gardening, photography, the way light filters through leaves. Even
something as simple as a blooming rose began to feel like a sign that healing was possible.
This rose, soft and quiet in its strength, became a symbol of what it means to bloom after
devastation. To root yourself again. To rise from the storm-not untouched, but still growing.
I’m still learning. Still healing. Still striving to better myself.
But I’m here.
And that, in itself, is a quiet triumph.
Number of things happening, but either way, always looking forward and not behind.
These days, she is learning she doesn’t have to be the “sad old lady” life once tried to name her. After the storms, she chose to plant again, try to write again, to sing again.
Every photograph, rosebud, and whispered lyric proves that healing is not about forgetting but about moving forward and creating joy in the midst of what remains.
She calls herself “The Apprentice Creator, still fumbling, still learning, but no longer hiding. Instead of being defined by sorrow, she is now shaping a life of quiet magic—one post, one bloom, one song at a time.
—DJFotoPerfect
- Merry Christmas
- My morning pinks — bold, soft, and blooming anyway.
- “I can’t believe this was from my iPhone last night. The moon was unreal.”
- Wreck Point, 2015 — a morning that didn’t just rise, it remembered me.
- Dorothy Perkins held a golden-winged guest this morning
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