Driving through Grand Teton felt like stepping into a painting, one that’s alive, breathing, and full of stories. I held the park map against the windshield, and for a moment, the image and the real mountains lined up perfectly. It was surreal like the land was saying, “You’re exactly where you need to be.”
But this place is more than just beautiful. It holds history, memory, and meaning. Every mountain peak, every stretch of open road feels sacred, shaped not just by nature, but by the people who’ve called this place home long before it became a national park.
Being here reminded me how deeply connected we are to the land. It's not just about visiting a place, it’s about feeling it. Honoring it. Listening to the quiet stories it tells.
I’ve seen Tower Bridge so many times in movies, in photos but nothing compares to standing there in real life. The wind from the River Thames, the crowd moving all around me, the bright red bus crossing above, boats gliding underneath, and that big London sky stretching wide overhead — somehow, it all just fit together.
It felt like more than a landmark. It felt alive, like the bridge was quietly holding everything: history, culture, architecture, and even love. All those little pieces, connected in one moment. A reminder that sometimes, a place doesn’t just impress you, it speaks to you.
I grew up in Bangladesh, a country where the air is warm and humid all year round. Snow was something I only saw in movies or read about in books.
When I moved to Utah, people kept telling me this was the place with “The Greatest Snow on Earth”. I didn’t quite know what to expect until winter arrived.
This photo was taken on my campus during my very first snowy year. The world felt transformed, quiet, glistening, and wrapped in a blanket of white. The trees shimmered like they were made of glass, and the air carried a stillness I had never experienced before.
It was a moment of pure wonder, a reminder that no matter how far we travel from home, there is always beauty waiting to be discovered in new seasons of life.
Visiting Shoshone Falls was one of those moments where everything just… paused. The sound of the water crashing, the mist on my face, the sun bouncing off the rocks , it all felt so alive, and yet peaceful at the same time.
They call it the “Niagara of the West,” but being there felt more personal than that. Like the falls weren’t just showing off their power, but telling quiet stories too. Stories of land, time, and the people who’ve been connected to this place long before I ever arrived.
I left feeling grounded, grateful, and a little more in tune with everything around me.
Craters of the Moon is one of those places that’s hard to put into words. Its history and geology are almost unimaginable vast lava fields, rough black rock, and land shaped by fire.
Being there reminded me that transformation can be messy, even painful… but also deeply beautiful. What once burned with chaos now stands still, strong, and quiet.
It’s a place to feel something ancient, powerful, and humbling.
It was the summer of 2023 in England; cloudy skies, a cool breeze, and something in the air that made me want to connect with the past. I decided to visit Stonehenge, a place I had seen in books and documentaries but never thought I’d witness in person.
Stonehenge's construction and use spanned several prehistoric periods, primarily the Neolithic and Bronze Ages. These stones have stood through thousands of years, holding the secrets of rituals, cultures, and human connection. Being there wasn’t just about seeing a monument; it was about feeling the echoes of history in the wind.
After class at USU, I was walking across campus when I stopped in my tracks and took this photo. The scene was so calm, so quietly beautiful, I couldn’t help but whisper to myself,“Nature, how are you always this peaceful?”
There’s something magical about those in-between days, when fall and winter meet. When golden leaves still cling to the trees, even as snow gently rests on their branches. It felt like the two seasons were whispering to each other, soft, slow, and full of grace.
I didn’t rush. I just stood there, taking it in—the sky, the snow, the orange leaves, and that crisp quiet only winter knows. It was one of those small moments that fills you up without saying a word. Beautiful. Peaceful. Gentle.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, collecting field data was a tremendous challenge especially conducting focus group discussions. As the lead coordinator in my unit at the United Nations World Food Programme, I was responsible for ensuring these sessions happened safely and effectively. Despite the risks, I truly valued going to the field, meeting people face-to-face, and understanding their struggles.
If we do not hear directly from the community, how can we hope to solve their problems? Each year, I coordinated multiple focus group discussions along with key informant interviews, all conducted in person in the refugee camps. These conversations—whether during emergencies, disasters, or crises are essential.
People might wonder why I have so many tablets on my desk, and yes, there are even more out of the frame. Every year, with the United Nations World Food Programme, we organised large-scale surveys, all conducted through digital data collection. One of my roles was to prepare these tablets for field use, which involved installing the necessary applications, customising them for user-friendliness, and ensuring they were ready for efficient and accurate data gathering. I also trained field teams on how to use the devices effectively while emphasising the importance of maintaining data confidentiality and protecting sensitive information. It was meticulous work, but it empowered teams to collect high-quality, secure data that informed critical humanitarian decisions.
When I moved to Utah for my research, I knew I had to explore the places that define this state’s climate and the Bonneville Salt Flats was high on my list.
When I finally visited, it felt like stepping into another world. The ground beneath my feet was pure white, and blurring into the sky. It was quiet, peaceful, and almost unreal. But behind the beauty, I learned a harder truth: this incredible landscape is slowly disappearing. Over the years, mining, water pumping, and land-speed racing have taken a serious toll. The salt flats have shrunk from 50 square miles to just 35.
I still feel lucky I got to see it. But it was also a reminder: if we want future generations to experience places like this, we have to care more. We have to be strategic and thoughtful about protecting the environment not just for research, but for the beauty, memory, and meaning these landscapes hold.
Captured on a cloudy winter afternoon, this image highlights the grandeur and resilience of Edinburgh Castle.
White House Easter Egg Roll Souvenir – 1995
During my visit to Maryland in 2024, I came across this special keepsake from the 1995 White House Easter Egg Roll, signed by President Bill Clinton and First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton. A lovely reminder of a historic American tradition!
When I visited this place, when I felt the air, it seems like I have the connection with the western part of the USA. What was that? Is it because I study in the west part of the USA? Or because my research area is here? Or maybe the welcoming nature who can whisper the story of the beautiful adventures west so that I feel the sense of connection.
Standing on the Prime Meridian Line at Greenwich — where east meets west and time begins. It felt surreal to be in a place that defines global time zones. As someone who’s always been curious about geography, history, and the systems that shape our world, this moment reminded me how interconnected we all are.
I Stand With Persons With Disabilities and You?
During my time with the World Food Programme, I organised and participated in a series of events aimed at raising awareness about human rights. One of these powerful moments was during the Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence campaign, where voices from across the community came together to stand for equality and dignity. In this photo, I hold a sign that reads, “I stand with persons with disabilities and you?” a simple yet profound reminder that inclusion is at the heart of human rights. Surrounded by messages of hope and solidarity, the day reflected our shared commitment to creating a world where every individual is valued and empowered.
When I visited Zion National Park, I was amused by the beautiful nature. It’s outstanding and makes me feel like I’ve stepped into a different world on Earth. The towering cliffs, rushing river, and fresh mountain air felt like nature’s own masterpiece. The best part of staying in the west is that, over time, I’m becoming a fan of hiking. My enthusiastic mind now wants to see more of the world’s beautiful, unfolded places. Each trail gives me joy, love, and a refreshing energy, a reminder that the Earth still holds wonders waiting to be explored.
In the remote coastal area of Kutubdia, Bangladesh I led community interviews and focus group discussions as part of my fieldwork with UNWFP. I’ve always valued going directly to the field, listening to people’s voices, capturing ground realities, and collecting evidence that truly reflects their lived experiences.
In this photo, I am singing as part of a cultural performance during the UNWFP Cultural Evening, held in support of the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence (GBV).
Through music and collective voices, we echoed the strength, resilience, and power of women, a call to end violence and promote dignity, equality, and justice.
In springtime, each evening after class, I often sit on campus to watch nature unfold her magic. The sun sets, painting the sky with colors that are never the same twice. Every sunset feels like nature’s way of spreading her beauty and glory around us, vibrant, peaceful, and awe-inspiring. But it also makes me wonder: do we truly care for nature as much as she cares for us?
Bryce Canyon is one of the most beautiful canyons in the world, a masterpiece carved by time and nature. Every layer tells a story of geological history, shaped by wind, water, and the patient passage of millions of years. Standing here feels like being in another world, where nature’s colors, shapes, and silence show the Earth’s beauty.
During my visit to the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Museum, I came across this inspiring display featuring signed gear from tennis legends, a powerful reminder of the sport’s rich history.
What made the experience unforgettable was witnessing the 2023 Wimbledon Men's Singles Final live.
I took this picture near my house parking lot, and it reminded me that nature is always close by. These red tulips bloomed brightly beside the cars, adding joy and beauty to an ordinary spot. It shows that even in simple places, nature finds a way to shine.
Do you know where I find my source of enjoyment? It is when I visit institutes and universities, exploring their campuses and libraries. Through these visits, I learn how they conduct research on social and environmental perspectives while also gaining insights into the culture and history reflected in their surroundings. Here are some moments I captured during these explorations.