I trace the bubbles painted on the wall, on top of it hangs different certificates from different marine organizations.

"He's in his room." I smile at the gray-haired woman who spoke. The diver's wife. I follow her even if I know where exacty his room is. "The paintings still look lively, don't they?"

I nod at her. Every corner of the house has different paintings; from coral reefs, to sharks, to bubbles, to seagrass and different types of fish. They all look so... Alive. I sigh heavily. I look back on the two cameraman to make sure they are catching up.

Reaching his room, he is settled on the sofa near the window, overlooking the sea. His face look tired yet his expression reveals greatfulness.

"Hi, sir!" I greeted extending my hand. He hardly accept it then smiled. "I'm Kim Vequizo from National Geographic and I'm here for a short interview."

He nod knowingly, he had been informed. I clip the lapel on the collar of his polo-shirt. He gestures the couch in front of him, I smile as I occupy it. "Ready?" He answer with another nod. I inhale deeply and cleared my throat.

"You have been a diver for the last fourty five years. How do you describe the marine world?"

"Paradise. There is no other way to describe it. Have you seen the walls?" I nod in his question. "Every paint in there are the manifestation of the ocean I used to dive in. Clean, blue and abundantly filled with marine creatures." Sadness flooded his face. I can almost feel his agony.

"And you were the one who painted those?"

He nods.

"How did the marine environment changed for the past years?"

He waive his hand in dismissal. "I used to teach people how to dive since I was in my early twenties. I taught my children how to swim, I used to go fishing and diving for my own satisfaction. But now, I can't do any of those with my grandchildren. That's how the marine environment has changed. You don't describe it by how it looked like underwater, but how it affected the people who lives above."

I swallow hard, I feel a lump on my throat as I look to the old diver. No one can blame him, the fences built to keep people out of the sea have been guarded for five years now.

"Any hopes for the government's solution about the underwater pollution?"

"I hope..." he pause and blink rapidly, as if trying to stop his tears. "I hope to dive and see its outcome before I couldn't anymore."

I pause, letting his answer sink in. "I guess we're all done." I signalled the cameramen to turn off their cameras. I hug the old man. "Thanks, dad. This is all for you," I whisper softly.

***

"...One of those whom we interviewed is Mister Hernan Braulio, known as the last diver on the Island of Boracay before the fences was built."