This is one of many photographs belonging to a series I took in the neighborhood I grew up in until I was 7. I try to visit my family in Xochimilco, Mexico City once a year, which distresses me, seeing that I miss out on so much as time goes by. These are my cousins Sofia Garcia-Flores and Mario Rojas-Ortiz (13 and 12 years of age, respectively). I migrated to the U.S around the time they were both born, so subconsiously I have always documented their lives' through photographs. This time around, upon noticing their unavoidable teenage angst, and momentary apathies; I was saddened but also reflective on my own turbulent experience with navigating adolescence, a feat that is universally difficult for all. Considering that I have very little photographs of myself as a pre-teen, I wanted to immortalize them as they were now, in case they ever needed to see how loved and beautiful they always have been. I captured this particular shot when they both lost interest in posing for my camera and decided to lay down on the colorful floor of the 'trajinera' (traditional Xochimilcan boat). In this candid image, the adolescents are captured in a fleeting moment of tranquility; a glimpse of their own ephemeral nostalgia, a reflection of what its like being caught in between childhood and the beginning of adolescence. The purpose of this photograph is to highlight the beauty of growing up, one of life's most stunning metamorphosis.