August 8th | The Whitsunday Islands

If fish listened to music, would they like Jazz?

I think this as I float above a busy scene of ocean life. Coral swaying to and fro. Parrotfish nibbling. None of the fish overly concerned with my presence.

I think about the darting of their movement. They swim in short bursts of fast motion, changing direction in an instant, then pausing for a moment before they’re off again. They aren’t concerned with the rules of gravity; they can go up, down, left, right…wherever the water takes them.

What must it feel like to swim in a school? Executing a detailed routine in perfect unison surely feels good. Do they feel a part of something? The sun is shining down, creating an intricate pattern of wobbly diamonds, but now and again, a cloud comes over, changing the colour of everything.

A momentary shift into panic as I look up out of the water, realising just how far from everyone else I’ve drifted, a little too far out for my liking. The only thing keeping me company is my breathing. Luckily, the calm is not hard to find again.

I slow my breathing, and I can focus back on the chorus of ocean sounds. They are making quite a bit of noise down here. Floating here feels like the perfect place to empty your mind of all thoughts — something I could never achieve after yoga in an attempt to meditate. But down here, it works as all I am concerned about is what all these fish are looking at.

I want to stay in forever, but it’s time for lunch.

*Recorded live in Bri’s home in Potts Point, Sydney (2025)