![[DSCF6171-DSCF5887 copy web.jpeg]]     ![[DSCF8448-DSCF8436 copy web.jpeg]]     ![[DSCF6084-DSCF4441 copy web.jpeg]]     ![[DSCF3373-DSCF6009 copy web.jpg]] The sea is often imagined as a barrier—what lies between places, what defines an island as separate. But in my native Galicia, in northern Spain, historical land registry documents describe coastal property boundaries with an evocative phrase: _“bordering England to the North, sea in between.”_ This peculiar legal language reveals a different relationship to the sea: one that sees it not only as a dividing line but also as a bridge, collapsing distance and suggesting proximity. As if the sea were merely a pond between familiar shores. In those earlier times, it was easier to reach England from northern Spain by boat than to travel half as far overland. Seafarers knew then—as they do now—that the sea is not a barrier but a medium. It connects. It moves. It carries humans and non-humans alike, spreading cultures, species, ideas. It is a fluid threshold that both separates and joins. This project explores that duality through paired photographs of the “same” sea—one taken from the coast of southern England, where I now live, and the other from the north of Galicia, where I was born. Through these diptychs, I trace a personal and geographical continuity across waters that are at once dividing and uniting.