We rented a little pod at the edge of Uisken bay, on the isle of Lewis. Only a small field between our bed and the water. However at low tide the water disappeared so far we could barely see it anymore and we could cross the bay on foot.

I lived on a different time during those few days: the rhythm of the tides. My clock was the floating pier of our little beach, going up and down as the water would rise or disappear. Watching it lift, higher and higher, waiting for enough depth to swim.

Tracking the tide has always been one of my favourite hobby, from the cardboard calendars when I was a child to my favourite app today. I love planning around those magical numbers, feeling like the stars are perfectly aligning when the high tide matches the window I have for a cold dip. I love waiting for that exact minute where the water is at its highest. “An hour and I’ll swim”. “If I leave the house now, I’ll be in the water right on time”.

I can almost feel the moment the water becomes still, the subtle pause in its constant flow. Time stops for an instant and I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Being reminded that there is no us and nature, but that we are nature.