Tonal Horizon

In the winter, the absence of sun drains color from everything. Plants, water, skin. The horizon disappears until sky and sea press into each other like charcoal smudged across paper.

Flocks of geese honk overhead as they migrate south. They know to go looking for the sun.

The rest of us wait for it to reappear. Faces turn toward brief openings in the clouds. Sucker holes, they say. Made you think there would be blue sky. We plan everything around a single hour of light. Get it while it’s good, they say.

Any moment of sun is an other worldly experience. The kind that creates moments of clarity and joy, eyes half-closed against the glare. Warmth moves across the face like a sunny day in January.

35mm Ilford Delta Pro 400 at box speed, developed normally

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