As I worked on establishing a better routine, I began waking up earlier each day and learning to cherish the quiet of the mornings. It felt like gifting myself a private moment of peace before the world stirred. On some of those tranquil mornings, the lagoon separating the French and Dutch sides of St. Martin would lie still, as smooth as a mirror, before the winds returned. That’s when I captured this panorama.

I’ve always loved how clouds seem to cling to islands, almost as if they travel just to settle there. While I know it’s due to the humidity rising from the land—what scientists call orographic lifting—I prefer to imagine that clouds choose to stay for the companionship.

Islands themselves tell stories of time and transformation, born from slow-moving marine eruptions and the clash of tectonic giants. Over time, they erode and evolve. The French side of St. Martin, now more worn and gentle, has fewer hills compared to the Dutch side. Even the boldest mountains that rise above the ocean eventually succumb, sinking to form atolls. It’s all just a matter of time.