What’s Left
The lens pans the base of the cliffs, gliding over the crush of swirling tides thundering below the trail. In the choppy surf a black shelf emerges from the ebbing waves. Its darkness glistens against the blue water. As if …
The lens pans the base of the cliffs, gliding over the crush of swirling tides thundering below the trail. In the choppy surf a black shelf emerges from the ebbing waves. Its darkness glistens against the blue water. As if …