I feel the eyes on me, the gaze of the photographer capturing my every move. It's not the first time I've sensed someone watching, but there's something different about this one. A soft voice, perhaps, or just the persistence of the shutter clicking.

I soar through the air, the crisp sound of the skateboard flipping beneath my Prada boots. Landing effortlessly, I can almost hear the click of her camera in sync with the rhythm of my moves.