The Edge of the Tide

The morning is a thin line. It separates what we know from what we are about to lose. To stand at the edge of the water is to admit that the land is only a temporary arrangement. We carry our tools, our heavy glass and metal, hoping to trap a fragment of the light before it shifts. But the light does not belong to us. It belongs to the tide, which comes and goes without asking for permission. We watch. We wait for the moment when the world stops breathing, just for a heartbeat, before the wind changes direction. There is a specific loneliness in being the only one awake to witness the turning of the day. It is a quiet, necessary work. We are all searching for something that has already passed, or something that has not yet arrived. What remains when the tide pulls back?

Bappa Goswami has captured this stillness in his image titled Early Shooter. It reminds me that we are all just observers waiting for the light to find us. Does the sea look different when you are the only one watching?