The tree spirals up from the swamp floor, its trunk fluted and pale, wreathed in Spanish moss that hangs like the tree is shedding itself. Branches reach into a clear blue sky, sparse and deliberate. This is old growth — a cypress that’s been reading water and time for more years than its spiraling grain can count. Shot from below, the tree becomes a monument to patience, to slow growth, to what endures in wet places.
Shot in Florida, 2026.
