I photograph
to remember,
to understand
and to connect.

This started long before I owned a camera, on the north coast of São Paulo. That's where I learned to love the ocean, and to admire and respect it, in that order, the way you do with something that could take everything from you and still hands you back a good day.

Portugal changed the terms of that relationship. In Peniche I met a different ocean entirely: the North Atlantic, colder and less patient, throwing storms against Cabo Carvoeiro and carving perfect barrels into Supertubos. Nothing like the sea I was used to. This one felt more brutal, more alive, like it was shaping the coastline just to prove it could. I spent a lot of those early moments simply standing still, watching waves break against the cliffs, learning to read something I thought I already knew.

Somewhere along the way, all of it led me to Ericeira. It's the place that ended up with my heart, and now every year I find myself waiting for winter the way you wait for someone.

There are other places tucked in there too. Costa Brava, where the Mediterranean asks nothing of you, and I've come to appreciate a coastline that doesn't have to fight you to be beautiful. Los Pirineos, where the silence and the scale of the mountains still make me feel exactly as small as they did the first time. And O Oeste, the stretch of coast closer to home now, cliffs, tides and small fishing villages that quietly taught me most of what I know about watching light change over water. And still, past all of them, there's the horizon: plenty more waiting, in whichever direction I end up looking next.