Sunlight on the Atlantic is warm in May, but I don’t know how to capture warmth with a camera. Under my feet waves surge one after another making clear marks on the beach that overlap each other without a regular pattern, interlacing with my small footprints. At the far end of the ocean it is uniformly thick and deep; I cannot make out anything there even with binoculars. A couple of fish got strangled on the beach. Their bodies struggle to make a move to no avail, and their hard shell proves to be useless on the sand. I pick them up and put them back to the water. I am not sure if they will be able to get back to the deep ocean, though. It is kind of assuring to see strangers still smile at each other in this small place called Bethany. I smile back at everybody I run into.
