(...) and now he slowed until the wind was a whisper in his face,
until the ocean stood still beneath him.
He narrowed his eyes in fierce concentration,
held his breath, forced one ... single ... more ... inch ...of ... curve ...
Then his feathers ruffled, he stalled
and fell.

Richard Bach - Jonathan Livingston Seagull (1979)

Photographs taken between 2014 and 2016. Mostly in my home island.