Lowanna.

It was a Saturday afternoon, on the Port Lincoln pier, with her father and a few fishermen. A juvenile, about two meters, passed slowly by, a gray shadow three meters down. All the other kids took a step back; Lowanna lay face down on the edge and followed it with her eyes. Her father lifted her up by the belt and, instead of scolding her, said: "got a good look at it, didn't you?" That afternoon she didn't feel fear, but something harder to explain. She didn't know what to do with that for years.

From her father, a worker at the tuna plant, she learned to read the water before she learned her letters, and one single rule: if the water changes color, get out. I created her face-on, eyes fixed on whoever's looking at her, because that's what her own kind does: they seek out the eyes. That's the gaze you're wearing on the T-shirt. In it is that same face, the one who looks at the sea head-on and doesn't look away. Her full story is in her bio, if you feel like reading on.