Being alone in the water at dawn — emerging from the shadows, carried by the swell at the foot of a cliff — Impermanence is both a meditation and a test of presence. A highly symbolic project, it is the fruit of countless morning immersions in this intimate yet unsettling place. It also marked a decisive step forward in my underwater photographic work.

Drawn to the subtle phenomena unfolding just beneath the surface, I devoted months to observing how the ocean reshapes itself with every breath of wind and light. A barely perceptible wave could lift clouds of sand metres below, transforming the seafloor into living patterns — endlessly varied, never repeated.

Each morning I entered the water at first light, guided by curiosity and patience. Over time, I learned to read the rhythms of the tides, the temperature shifts, and the light that revealed or concealed these fleeting formations. It became a form of dialogue — between body, breath, and the elements — where photographing was no longer about capture, but communion.

Colour became essential: it carried the delicate atmosphere of dawn, the soft transitions of light and matter that define the ocean’s ever-changing face. Every image is a meeting with the moment — unique, unrepeatable, and vanishing as soon as it appears.

The place and the phenomena illustrated in this series are accessible to all. Beyond fins, mask, and snorkel, what is required is curiosity, perseverance, and patience. Ninety percent of the time, suspended sand prevents clear vision — you must learn the rhythm of the waves, manage your immersion and your breath, anticipate the movement, and arrive — just once — at the right place, in the right instant, to suspend your flight for the click of the shutter.

I wish you a beautiful journey, and invite you to look at what surrounds you with the gaze of a child — the gaze that comes from the heart and marvels at even the smallest thing.