We had been walking all day. Five beaches, nearly thirty kilometers, constantly chasing the kind of landscapes that make you forget how tired you are. The air smelled of salt and earth. The fading sun touched our skin, every sense heightened, as if the world had sharpened itself around us. The kind of moment that makes you feel alive, present. My friend and I spoke in fragments, in laughter, in quiet pauses as we took in the enormity of it all. We weren’t just looking for the perfect shot, we were searching for something unspoken, a feeling, a trace of ourselves in the vastness.

By the time we reached this cliff, the light had begun its slow descent, stretching shadows across the grass and painting everything with the last fire of the day. The wind wrapped around us, the ocean stretched beyond what the eye could hold, and for a second, everything made sense.

It feels like a rewriting. A story once lived, now told in light, in color, in hope. Proof that even after everything, there are places where we stand, breathe, and realize: we are still here. And we are still moving forward.