I like water-and-rock shots like this to feed my imagination. I picture an island and I put my characters in play there. This time, there's been a murder, and now that the fog has pulled back out to sea, well, Tom Dacre is about to wish the sunlight wasn't quite so bright. Though that's not fair, he . . . .
Asilomar, actually.
Looking north toward what I call the Gazebo Rocks.
Perspective? Memory for mourning? Story-telling? Uh-huhh.
