Liminal existence
The boat rests—a singular presence suspended between fragmented realities. Its wooden frame, weathered and muted in green and grey, anchors itself to a landscape that fractures and...
Meditations on transience
The driftwood lay half-buried in wet sand, its pale, salt-bleached form curving like a question mark against the shore. Once, it had been part of something purposeful—a str...
Thoughts at dusk
She stands at the edge where land meets sea, a solitary figure against the vast gray horizon. The wind whips her coat around her legs and tugs at her hair, but she hardly notices. H...
Wandering thoughts in the evening twilight
The lonely walker stands at the threshold where sea meets land, solitary against the dimming light. Sand shifts beneath his weathered boots, each grain a m...
The "Annie May"
Michael Connolly had returned to this stretch of coastline for thirty years, watching the gradual surrender of the Annie May to time and tide. The fishing boat's weathered hull, now...
Golden daffodils
In the soft light of early spring, a willow basket cradles a burst of golden jubilation. The daffodils unfurl their delicate petals, each bloom a sunburst of hope emerging from t...