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.
