I'm standing on the western tip of a peninsula called Emerson Point. It's where I come to get away from it all, a little sliver of solitude.
That's not me standing by the water, so apparently, it's not complete solitude. There were about a dozen people here, and typically I'm not the only one with a camera. But having people around ensures I can place one in the frame to tell a story. In this case, the story is about a solitary figure watching the sunset.
Usually, when I frame a person in a shot like this, I try to ensure they are nondescript. In the movie industry, it's known as atmosphere. I used to work in the back office of a movie studio, and an atmosphere person was paid twenty-five dollars a day. That's not bad for just standing around; but in this case, I didn't spend a cent.
The other day I stopped my car to capture the sun sinking across the intercoastal. The tides were low and the clouds high.
As I set up with my tripod, a gentleman approached asking if I knew anything about the barge; he thought that since I was taking pictures of it, I must know. But it was the first time I'd seen it. For me, it was nothing more than a foreground element that added interest to the scene.
According to him, the barge is a bit of a mystery, and he had just attended a homeowners meeting where it was a topic of discussion. Presumably, it's violating some bi-law or perhaps cluttering the view. It seems the barge is a bit of a mystery and I was not helping at all. I expect the next time I drive by it will be gone. Nevertheless, I have at least produced photographic evidence to be used at the next meeting.
There's something odd about this picture; I can't quite put my finger on it. It could be any number of things; I'm not even sure what it could be.
Now and then, a photo strikes me after the fact. There may or may not be any redeeming qualities about the image itself; this is perhaps one of those images.
Now that I think of it, the image reminds me of an odd joke, that not even funny. Indeed it's entirely irrational.