August 7, 2025

A short walk: a lighthouse at the end of the spit

The alarm went off before dawn, and by six I was already at a lighthouse at the end of the spit. Locals barely noticed me. A man feeding gulls told me the place looks completely different in spring.

I kept a paper notebook this time, writing down the time and the light for every roll. A light drizzle started around ten. I sheltered under a bus stop roof and photographed people hurrying past.

Shooting with a cheap zoom from a flea market meant I had to get closer than I am used to, which was uncomfortable at first. The light was quiet, and birds over water kept pulling my attention away from anything I had planned to photograph.

If you go, bring warm socks and a thermos — the café closes early.