Before the Water Touches

There’s something I quietly enjoy: doing a photo shoot just before I shower.

Especially in this bathroom — the way the sunlight hits at a certain angle, late afternoon maybe, just before the steam begins to rise. The light is soft but direct, and the tiles reflect it in a way that feels cinematic. I’ve come to recognize the timing. It doesn’t last long.

Sometimes I get creative with how I set up the shot. If the water’s already running, I have to position the phone or camera carefully — balancing it on the edge of the sink, shielding it from the spray, framing the moment before everything fogs up. It’s a bit of choreography. A quiet dance with light and water.

Occasionally, I film the entire showering process. Not for anyone in particular — just to see how the body moves when it’s not performing. I’m not sure if that’s something people want to see. But I find it interesting. The way skin glows under steam. The way breath slows. The way presence shifts when no one’s watching.

These moments aren’t about vanity. They’re about noticing. About capturing the transition between stillness and motion. Dry and wet. Light and blur.

I suppose it’s a kind of ritual. One I return to when the light feels right.