We met just before light.
I woke up, walked five minutes, and there she was —
waiting where we’d said we would, like old times.
No texts, no updates. Just trust.
I woke up, walked five minutes, and there she was —
waiting where we’d said we would, like old times.
No texts, no updates. Just trust.
We walked together, mostly quiet.
Three minutes along the water.
Then we stopped — because the place called, and we listened.
Three minutes along the water.
Then we stopped — because the place called, and we listened.
We had spoken about letting go.
Not in the sharp way —
but the slow kind.
When something slips off,
not because you pulled,
but because your hands stopped holding.
Not in the sharp way —
but the slow kind.
When something slips off,
not because you pulled,
but because your hands stopped holding.
It was cold.
We didn’t say much.
The water made space for it.
We didn’t say much.
The water made space for it.
The sun arrived quietly.
We were already in the water.
No signal, no cue — just felt like something had been allowed.
We were already in the water.
No signal, no cue — just felt like something had been allowed.
Part of a quiet ongoing practice — listening, not staging.
With Ushana, in South Sinai. A body in water. A camera without an agenda.