Skerries is a small coastal town north of Dublin, where life seems to move slowly between sea, wind, and long quiet afternoons.

I met Derry there shortly after his first communion. On his first day back at school, he insisted on wearing his older brother’s suit instead of his school uniform. His mother had bought him a new suit of his own, but Derry preferred the one that already carried someone else’s shape.

After school, his mother took him to the beach. Still carefully dressed, Derry wandered along the shoreline with quiet pride and tenderness, seemingly untouched by the cold sea air around him.

This short series is less about childhood itself than about the fragile moment of becoming — when identity begins to take shape in small gestures, quiet desires, and the need to be seen for who we are.