The tides come in and out. The clouds come and go. Time passes. This boat quietly sits at anchor in the soft dawn light. It's always here. Occasional cars snake by, their tires hissing on the damp pavement, their occupants hardly noticing.

Three photographers pull over on to the narrow shoulder, their tires just barely off the road. They set up their tripods, mount their cameras and are ready to let their beings dissolve in the soft light. The waters of the bay slowly, almost imperceptibly recede. The boat goes nowhere.