It was one of those Fire Island mornings where the air feels soft and the light comes up slowly over the water. I sat down on the sand at Seaview, the wind moving just enough to stir the umbrella in front of me. There was only one chair, one patch of shade, and the wide openness of the beach stretching away in both directions.
The drawing became about that quiet solitude—the umbrella as a marker of presence, the sea holding its rhythm, the sand catching the light. Just a single place to rest, surrounded by everything else alive and moving.
