A foggy morning in May in Montauk. I hear the dunes have changed since Hurricane Sandy, some shifted, some gone. The walk to the ocean is quiet, an occasional dog trotting ahead of its owner, happy. The terrible ocean is always present. Heard as a hoarse murmur from between scrub and trees, across the road, then in front of you, threatening you with a quiet slap as it hits the shore. On a quiet day it commands your respect. In a storm it is awful, a pure expression of power. You become very small.

Color photographs: Fujifilm Provia400X; Hasselblad 500C/M with 80mm Planar
Black and white photographs: Arista Premium 400 (Tri-X) at EI1000 in Diafine; Leica MP with 35mm Summicron version IV