The Stillness Beneath the Surface

Underwater shot of my nephew back in Agay-ay.

There’s a unique kind of calm that the ocean holds during sunset — not total silence, but a quietness that feels deep, old, and comforting. It’s the kind of moment that makes you slow down and just feel.

This photo was taken while swimming in the sea with my nephew. It wasn’t planned — I simply lifted the camera and captured a second in time. But somehow, this unplanned shot became one of my favorites.

What I love most about this image is how it’s divided — half above the surface, half below. It shows him floating right between two worlds. Above the water, the sky is lit with golden hues, soft and dreamlike from the fading sun. Below, the sea turns dark and quiet, full of mystery. The reflection distorts his face, almost as if time itself is bending.

He’s wearing a shirt marked “1985,” which gives the whole image an even stronger sense of time — like the past and present are meeting for a moment. It reminds me how quickly time moves, and how easily a simple day at the beach can become something worth remembering.

To me, this photo represents more than just a swim. It’s about contrast — light and dark, calm and motion, past and present. It’s about the in-between moments that we often overlook but end up meaning the most.

Looking at this picture now, I feel grateful. For the ocean. For family. For unexpected beauty. And for the quiet reminders that even ordinary moments can carry something eternal, if we take the time to see it.

Here’s an image of me trying to capture every moment.