An image came to mind some time ago.


I was in the middle of a two day drive, miles from the ocean, when an image appeared and simply wouldn't go away.

I spent the last few months planning, upgrading my underwater gear and waiting until the weather was right until I tried to capture it.


On sunset I waded into the ocean, steadied the tripod, held my breath while pressing the shutter and thirty seconds later an image appeared on the screen.


I hated it.


It was so close to what I had been imagining I was surprised, but it was boring to shoot - and I was already bored of looking at it.


Defeated, I walked to the shallows, holding the tripod in a way that the underwater housing was upside down bouncing while I walked. I mindlessly pressed the shutter button - a silent protest to what the tripod represented - and the resulting image was more interesting to me than what I had set out to capture.

Thirty minutes after the sun sets.




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