A

NARROW

MUDDY PATH

SQUEEZED BETWEEN

BUNGALOWS LEADS TO THE

ESTUARY, WHICH LEADS TO THE SEA

THE ESTUARY

                   WIGGLES

ITS

  WAY

         THROUGH THE

GRASSES

              CARVING UP

THE LANDSCAPE.

EVERYTHING RIPPLES

SHUTTERED CONCRETE PATHS RUN AROUND THE COAST, A LAST STAND AGAINST THE WATER FORCING ITSELF ON LAND. PATHS STARK IN THEIR SOLIDITY, DIVIDE CRUMBLING CHALK AND WAVE, MARSH LAND AND THE CONSTANT RE-ARRANGING OF PEBBLES.

THE SEA IS ALWAYS NIBBLING AT US

AT THE EDGE, STEPS DISSOLVE INTO THE WATER.

WAVES BREAK INTO EVER SMALLER WAVES CAPPED WITH FOAM FIZZLING OUT ON THE SAND.

THE TIDELINES ARE MARKED BY SEAWEED PUSHED ONTO LAND LIKE THE HOARDINGS OF THE COIN PUSHING MACHINES IN THE ARCADES NEAR BY.

THE SEA IS A PORTAL.

CALM OR CHOPPY, THE SURFACE OF THE SEA HYPNOTIZES US, A NEVER REPEATING ALGORITHM OF PATTERN, GIVING US A CATHARTIC SENCE OF FASCINATION, A NATURAL HIGH.

IN THE CITY WE CAN’T SEE PAST THE END OF THE STREET. FROM THE EDGE OF THE SHORE WE CAN STARE OUT AT THE END OF THE WORLD - THE HORIZON LINE. A HUMBLING SPACE AND SEEMINGLY ENDLESS NOTHINGNESS THAT REMINDS US OF THE EVERYTHING ELSE WE ARE CONNECTED TO.