March 1, 2026

Slow afternoon at a lighthouse at the end of the spit

The forecast promised rain, so naturally I headed to a lighthouse at the end of the spit. I kept a paper notebook this time, writing down the time and the light for every roll.

On the way home the train was nearly empty, so I reviewed the day's notes and planned the next trip. There is something calming about returning to the same spot and noticing small changes since the last visit.

I tried a few long exposures, but the wind had other ideas. The handheld shots turned out better anyway. Walking back, I found a side street I had never noticed before, lined with tiny workshops.

A light drizzle started around ten. I sheltered under a bus stop roof and photographed people hurrying past. The path was muddy and longer than the map suggested, but the view at the end made up for it.

I sat on a bench for almost an hour, just watching reflections change as the clouds moved. By noon the crowds arrived, so I walked further along the path, where empty benches were still undisturbed.

Nothing dramatic happened, and that was exactly the point.