Swansea Sweetness
"Marine biologist Chiamaka studies dolphins in Swansea Bay—but the thick Ivorian wildlife photographer documenting her work captures something much more intimate on camera."
The assignment was supposed to be about dolphins.
Aminata's camera kept finding Chiamaka instead.
"I need you in frame," Aminata explained. "For scale."
"There are other researchers."
"None as photogenic."
The boat trips became personal.
Just them and the bay and a camera that captured more than marine life.
"You're staring at me," Chiamaka observed.
"Documenting." Aminata's thick body shifted closer. "For the archive."
"What kind of archive?"
"Personal."
On the boat, anchored in a quiet cove, they discovered each other.
Aminata photographed everything—thick bodies tangled against the Welsh coastline.
"These can never be published," Chiamaka gasped.
"They're just for us."
"For us?"
"For memory. For proof this is real."
The documentary won awards.
The photographs no one saw won something more.
"Best subject I ever shot," Aminata said publicly.
Privately, she said the same thing with completely different meaning.
Swansea Bay kept their secret.
As bays have always kept lovers' secrets.