Shoreline Draft

The wind does what it wants to—shift, move, alter. Without asking. Sculpting flat sand into waves of perfect rhythm, like they’d been there forever. There were no signs of tracks, no seaweed, no shells. Just a canvas wiped clean overnight and given back to the warm light of morning.

Purchase

Making my way into a position in the dark, armed only with knowledge of the shoreline I have walked on many times—and a light. Carefully, I walked and made a very conscious effort not to disturb where I might take a photo, keeping my rules of preservation, even though I knew this was short-lived.

The horizon was straight, stretched thin between water and sky. Color moved smoothly—warming from violet to dark orange and back to cool again, holding nothing back. The water barely touched the shore. It just shimmered and held its breath, like it didn’t want to disturb what the wind had left behind.

I stayed longer than I meant to. The scene wasn’t dramatic. Does something natural ever need to be? There was a stillness that asked for patience, and I gave it mine. A few frames, some horizontal, some vertical. It’s moments like these that show nature is the true artist, and we only exist to take from it. Still, a photo is enough to remember how soft the world can be when it forgets to hurry.