Snorkelling in the coral reefs off the coast of Belize was a remarkable, colourful, humbling experience. The living world at once became three-dimensional: clouds of fish surfed in the current like dust in wind, and delicate piles of coral grew from the ocean floor like fantastic structures in a children's book. Silky rays glided along the coarse sandy sea floor, while barracudas, long and toothy, faced the current like weather vanes.
Beside the reefs lay the prairies – flat sand, mottled with sunlight between patches of seagrass, and long stretches of water fading out to a murky blue-green. It reminded me of where the mountains abruptly give way to the flatlands and the sky becomes as much a living thing as the ground.
I followed this school of fish around the edges of the reef for a time before they grew tired of me and flitted away into the coral. I love this photograph: it shows the athleticism, the grace, and the brutal endless space of life in the ocean.
Shimmering Fish: Near Caye Caulker, Belize (2010)