As i work on seeing the world through a lens again, i am always looking for interesting light.

As the morning light comes through our living room window, it reflects off of the tile floor and makes a strange camera obscura effect on the wall. My daughter creeps into the scene to make this serial, magical moment.

A cormorant pauses after the dive, wings spread—not to fly, but to dry. It’s a practical moment that often looks dramatic, but it’s really about patience.

This image is a reminder that not every moment is about action.
Some are about recovery, stillness, and waiting before the next dive.

On my ride into Nice this morning, I stopped for this. Two gulls on a pebble beach, the sea glowing under a layered sunrise. Nothing rare, nothing dramatic, just a quiet moment unfolding as the day began.

In a shallow winter puddle, a single leaf was trapped in ice. At first glance, nothing remarkable. But up close, the scene changed. Warm browns pressed against cold blues, leaf veins echoed frozen fractures, and the ice held the memory of moving water.

I love looking up at night to find the moon, but there is a different kind of wonder when it appears in daylight. A quiet war of attrition between sun and moon, suspended in an endless ocean of blue.

A different view of Nice.