Kayla Hatcher Photography

05/29/2026

Deport Trump.

05/18/2026

05/02/2026

In honor of May Day - I edited photos from the No Kings Day.

05/01/2026

01/27/2026

Kurdistan is colorful.

The day began with a taxi ride to the north east edge of the bazaar in search of a cafe window that I never found, but as I turned around to grab a taxi, in front of me was a multi-story cafe. I walked upstairs to six men smoking sh**ha that proceeded to each me to their favorite sellers of Qazwan (Kurdish coffee made from wild pistachio) until they all agreed on one vendor located on the south west edge of the bazaar. I began a 40 minute walk with a name and a general location to this gentleman. When I said “nah. nah. Kurdia” as he showed me his multiple options from mass exports of other nations, he smiled back and picked up his phone to order the Kurdish Qazwan to be delivered from another vendor on a different edge of the bazaar.

Community is a currency in Kurdistan. Family is a lifeline that extends to community. Hospitality is instinctual; making even the stranger with broken Kurdish part of that family.

01/23/2026

Kurdistan needs no filter.
The bazaar is a maze. A mystery full of treasure in unmarked alleyways. Familiar scents and sounds guide me from chicken feed to kitchen faucets to my favorite second hand clothes section. At dusk, the women who harvested greens from the mountains, and the teenager selling dried mulberries he harvested from family trees in the spring pack up. The fruit cart vendors are replaced by coffee vendors and the men drinking tea at tiny tables just off the street end their sixth game of tawla (backgammon) just as the boards lines merge into one. Lights slowly fill the sky with stars as that cherished time of cool air at the edge of summer is honored by song and dance in the pathways between structures built over centuries.

01/22/2026

A love letter to Kurdistan
This is the color that fills your hills. The joy on faces. The smell of jasmine on the evening breeze. The joy of dancing in the fabric shop or fathers reminding daughters to say ده‌ستخۆش (Dast khosh - bless your hands) as the waiter with the grandest smile brings them their fifth piece of fresh bread. It is the late night scampering feet of children playing ball in the street as their little sister sings at the top of her lungs. It is the waiters pacing behind you to make sure you have one more glass of tea and your bread never gets cold. It is rustling olive leaves post harvest. It is the sweets that never end at dinner with friends as they beckon one more dance, one more story, until the sun starts to peak the horizon - or the fruit comes out. It is the six families offering you a place to stay when you miss the last bus back to the city. It is the kittens curled up on every courtyard with no defined home but fed by 50. It is the celebration of the 5th generation addition to the home. It is the reminder that even when it feels all is falling apart to say Alhamdulillah (ٱلْحَمْدُ لِلَّٰهِ) and give thanks to God.

08/06/2024

We (Ruaa Ahmad & Kayla Hatcher) are hosting a LIVE Q&A tomorrow, Aug. 7th, at 5:30 pm CET / 11:30 am EST on Instagram.

Our Instagram handle is: MaramiaEcoDesign

Share your questions in the comments below.

This is a great chance to ask about Maramia, our experience, services, the upcoming hybrid PDC course, and all things ecological design.

We look forward to seeing you there!
What questions would you like answered? (Please share in the comments below).

05/19/2023

Petrichor
(The smell of rain)

Soils breathe.
Microbial songs to the stratosphere requesting what is bound to be released.

My soul knows the quenching of sighted clouds on peaked horizons begging for their growth; pores opening to the influx of moisture upon the northern breeze.

Soul’s tears swell anticipating the komorebi atmospherically shift as the pressures rise, the sky crackles, and each native - a tune to the microbial songs of relief - has unfurled.

From scorched to quenched - consuming the aromas of the rains arrival pre its release.