There are places where time seems to move differently … in the strangeness of dreams, in the immersion of flow, and in the time spent beneath the ocean.

Rising from the Atlantic off Ireland’s south-west coast, Bull Rock is imposing, with its famous navigable ocean tunnel, exposed lighthouse and one of Ireland’s largest gannet rookeries. We had come for a different reason, to explore beneath this oceanic marvel.

We began our dive by navigating the tunnel that bisects the island. Below us, it descended into a deep V-shaped groove, like the imprint of some vinyl record from ancient history. As we swam, we played the role of the needle, tracing its time-worn tune through the dim, dim light.

As we approached the other side and the light returned, those grooves began to fill with colour, with sponges and anemones, with starfish, urchins and the willowy sway of kelp.

As divers, our time underwater must be carefully managed, and we rely on computers to keep us safe. Still, I like to dive with a mechanical timepiece.

The bright orange of the dead man’s fingers sponge caught my eye. I took off my watch and rested it briefly among the cluster. The bright strap seemed almost designed for the setting, echoing their colour, while the brushed metal case caught the light from my strobes. Behind it, the kelp and open water faded into deep Atlantic green.

Placed in this context, my watch created an entirely new sense of time. It reminded me that our visits beneath the surface are always temporary. Yet surrounded by creatures that grow slowly and live according to tides, seasons and currents, time itself seemed to stop, as though it no longer mattered.

Underwater, time is experienced rather than measured. A minute spent descending can feel like forever, while thirty minutes exploring a reef can disappear almost instantly. The second hand continues its steady progress, but my own sense of time becomes shaped by experience.

Bull Rock is not a gentle place. Its exposed position brings currents, surge and rapidly changing conditions. That energy is also what makes it so alive. It was a lucky day for us, and one to be remembered time and time again.

This photograph became less about the watch itself and more about the contrast between two ways of measuring time. One is mechanical, precise and human-made. The other is written slowly into the growth of sponges, the movement of kelp and the enduring presence of the rock.

For a few moments, at least, they shared the same time and place.