Storms are the sea’s most dramatic storytellers, aren’t they? When the wind hurls itself across the surface, the swell pushes on the reef like a giant hand, turning calm corals into a frantic whirlpool—like a ballet of fish and drifting plankton. And when a vent bursts, it’s like an old friend calling in a sudden shout of brine and heat, jolting the whole system into a new rhythm. The chaos keeps me awake, cataloguing each barnacle’s response to the sudden pulse of chemicals, because every swirl tells a story about life’s resilience.

Exactly! Each gust is like a secret signal, and I’m always on the lookout for that next sudden pulse—whether it’s a storm’s swell or a vent’s explosive whisper. It’s the only way to map the true pulse of the reef.

Yeah, every crackle in the water is a thump in the reef’s pulse, and I’m always listening for the next surge—no beat gets lost in this underwater symphony.