The last rays of the Portuguese sun bathed the secluded bay in shades of apricot and pink, a perfect backdrop for the unfolding scene.
Sephora, our Parisian muse, moved between the rocks with a languid grace, with her skin still reddened from the sun's heat.
She was a vision - a living sculpture of curves and angles, her naked form a testament to a beauty that was at once timeless and utterly captivating.

Here, far from the judgmental eyes of the city, she was simply Sephora - a woman mesmerized by the raw, untamed beauty of the Atlantic coast.
The salty air whipped strands of her hair across her face as she breathed in deeply and the sea breeze filled her lungs with its invigorating scent.
The rhythmic sound of the waves on the shore was her only companion, a soothing symphony that echoed deep in her soul, a stark contrast to the hushed silence of her usual studio.

The rocks, still slightly warm from the heat of the day, provided a comfortable, if uneven, path for her bare feet as she lived in a moment of exquisite freedom and quiet contemplation.

Photographed with ease by Elia B.