What was my life when this photo was taken.  A lonely walk along a familiar log, drenched with dried ocean and sand.  Steady with my eyes down, my hand draped around the old Contax.  Past a woman with a book.  My mother.  A grandmother reaching for a small hand more interested in tidal leftovers.  I am glad to pass them by quietly.  Happily alone I dance slowly across the logs, this is what I came for after all.  Bound for a second bay in the shoreline I walk with the camera as my eyes.  Snap a photo of a beach hut in passing with hurried focus.  I had a wasteful love for my film then.