Creative Portfolio

There is a special kind of ocean, where the water feels light on the skin, and drifting sea foam encompasses most of the water’s surface. The water between the surface and the seafloor seems to continue for infinity, whether murky or beautifully pristine, dark navy or baby blue, eerily suspended in the otherwise empty space.

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This sea foam layers upon itself in white and grey, diluting the sunlight that passes through, easily penetrable but imposing, nonetheless. If you try to touch it, your hand will feel nothing but water, and even that is but a mere brush against the skin. It is evidently only for the eyes, providing something to look at against the otherwise continuous and ever-lasting ocean surface. The seafloor below is oddly flat, extending in all directions without much disturbance. Calming currents breeze along the seafloor, and you can almost hear it whisper as it travels through the terrain of the deep. Above the ocean surface are barren wastelands, incapable of cultivating life, at least to the creatures in the cobalt sea.

 

From the surface where the sea foam lays, you can see the ground-dwellers on the ocean floor miles below. Maybe you can’t see the ground-dwellers themselves, but you can sense their presence. There are structures scattered across the seafloor, where these ground-dwellers reside, made of stone, sand and other minerals. Ranging from jagged to round, from white to blue, from low to towering, these structures disrupt the continuous landscape of the ocean floor. When you do see the ground-dwellers from above, they seem to scuttle aimlessly around the maze of abstract structures they have erected, with no apparent purpose or intention, besides to get from one piece of stone to another. They seem out of place when seen from above, compared to the divine beauty of this sapphire wonderland. One might wonder why these creatures do what they do, why they hurry around in a frenzy. Perhaps they do not know either. They do sometimes leave the seafloor to venture further above, and on incredibly rare occasions, they might even reach above the ocean’s luminous surface. Why they would want to leave the ocean that has given them life for millennia is a mystery, as nothing but oblivion awaits them beyond the sea. The chaos and disarray of the ground-dwellers on the seafloor are a stark contrast to the perpetual stillness of the ocean waters above.

 

Most other creatures in the ocean fear the ground-dwellers, as they cause nothing but suffering for almost everything around them, depleting entire ecosystems of their resources and life. Whether or not malicious intent resides in them as individuals, as a collective they lay waste to the wondrous beauty of this ocean, molding it into their own chaotic hive of a civilization, with seemingly no regard for the land that gave them the priceless privilege of life. Some might claim that these creatures are akin to parasites, although they themselves would most likely beg to differ.

 

On rare occasions, you can spot various objects floating through the water, like angles surveying the land below. They are indistinguishable from a distance, except for the largest ones, thin white pointed shapes gliding slowly across the sea. Not much else can call the ocean waters home, as most creatures prefer the more vibrant and unpredictable seafloor, not the unearthly quietude of the sea above. There is something innocent about the water, untouched by the wrath of the ground-dwellers that lay under it, untouched by the devastating weight of life and purpose.

 

There is no order, no chaos, no good, no evil, no noise, and no emotion in these ocean waters, but silence, boundless, overwhelming tranquility. There is no story, no obvious explanation as to why it is or how it came to be, this world encapsulated in an endless void of indigo. It simply exists and exudes a sense of permanence in its simplest form, in that it is ancient, that it is eternal, that it will be here long after everything else is gone. The sea stays young while the land below grows old, being mutated and pushed to the brink of collapse by the unnatural greed and evils of the ground-dwellers.

 

The vast ocean seems to bask in its own serenity, silence stretching out for an eternity in an amalgamation of blues. There is life here, within the surface of sea foam, the seafloor that the ground-dwellers call home, and the horizonless water in between. Not only is there life here, but history. This ocean has witnessed wars being waged, and entire civilizations being built from the ground up. This ocean has witnessed nightmarish disasters, and joyous prosperity. This ocean can see all, can hear all, but it does not feel.

 

This ocean is in fact not an ocean at all, but a sky. And these ground-dwellers, they call themselves humans.