Tide Goes Out
Acrylic on canvas
43cm x 23cm
(Framed)
Fiji. A quiet walk along the shoreline leads to a clamber over volcanic rocks—slick with green moss, damp with the trickle of cool water. Fragments of coral wash in, scattered like memory across black stone, then are pulled away again as the tide recedes. The rhythm is gentle, constant, inevitable.
The sun hangs low, casting long shadows that stretch across the rocks. The heat of the day begins to fade, the thick haze lifting with the breeze. Sounds soften—waves hush, birds quieten. Darkness approaches slowly, unhurried, settling like a blanket over the ocean.
This is a moment held between movement and stillness, between light and dark—where everything shifts, yet nothing feels urgent. The tide goes in, the tide goes out, and the world continues, quiet and unchanged.
Acrylic on canvas
43cm x 23cm
(Framed)
Fiji. A quiet walk along the shoreline leads to a clamber over volcanic rocks—slick with green moss, damp with the trickle of cool water. Fragments of coral wash in, scattered like memory across black stone, then are pulled away again as the tide recedes. The rhythm is gentle, constant, inevitable.
The sun hangs low, casting long shadows that stretch across the rocks. The heat of the day begins to fade, the thick haze lifting with the breeze. Sounds soften—waves hush, birds quieten. Darkness approaches slowly, unhurried, settling like a blanket over the ocean.
This is a moment held between movement and stillness, between light and dark—where everything shifts, yet nothing feels urgent. The tide goes in, the tide goes out, and the world continues, quiet and unchanged.
Acrylic on canvas
43cm x 23cm
(Framed)
Fiji. A quiet walk along the shoreline leads to a clamber over volcanic rocks—slick with green moss, damp with the trickle of cool water. Fragments of coral wash in, scattered like memory across black stone, then are pulled away again as the tide recedes. The rhythm is gentle, constant, inevitable.
The sun hangs low, casting long shadows that stretch across the rocks. The heat of the day begins to fade, the thick haze lifting with the breeze. Sounds soften—waves hush, birds quieten. Darkness approaches slowly, unhurried, settling like a blanket over the ocean.
This is a moment held between movement and stillness, between light and dark—where everything shifts, yet nothing feels urgent. The tide goes in, the tide goes out, and the world continues, quiet and unchanged.