A sixty-second vacation. Scroll to enjoy
You step off the plane and the air smells like salt and tiare flowers. Then the boat. Then the mountain. The lagoon is doing that thing it does in pictures. Only louder.

Bathwater warm. Eighty-two degrees and so clear you forget you're in it.


No notifications. No agenda. In the morning, before you open your eyes, you hear water. It’s right below you. It has been all night.


Float with the butterflyfish. Eat the poisson cru while looking at the mountain. Coconut milk, raw fish, lime, nowhere to be. Watch the bay from the far side. Stay until the peak goes to silhouette.



Sixty seconds that took a week to live. Your camera roll.







