Skywalkers captures the moment just before dawn on the atoll of Mataiva, in French Polynesia.

Under the unnatural hues of early light, cut through by the harsh glow of the dock’s floodlights, gestures repeat themselves, precise, familiar. Fishing unfolds in an almost motionless calm, suspended between waiting, effort, and silence.

Fish surface, the water darkens, blood occasionally emerges, without breaking the rhythm of the scene. The beauty of the light persists, indifferent to what it illuminates.

Skywalkers inhabits this fragile continuity, where nothing interrupts the gaze, even when what it encounters might otherwise draw it away.

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