Disha Patani moves like a whisper caught in dim light. Her latest black-and-white portraits don’t perform for the camera, they breathe in it. Shadows wrap around her like they belong there, each frame holding the kind of stillness that makes you look longer than you meant to.
The light carves out her waist, her shoulders, the fall of her hair. A black bralette, a long skirt, pared down until all that’s left is form and mood.
In some shots she leans, in others she bends slightly, as if mid-thought. Every curve, every shadow sits where it should, unbothered by the need to please.
It’s less about posing and more about existing in front of the lens. Disha lets the stillness speak, and it does, in a way that colour and noise never could.
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