On those days when my glass drops below half-empty and I can’t seem to refill it no matter what, I pick up a camera and leave the house. Often I walk the neighborhood looking for snapshots of life. Other days, times when I need to keep myself away from me (thank you Adam Durwitz), I go farther.

 One such journey a couple of years ago took me to Stinson Beach. It was mid-March, the second day of spring. I arrived late and it was after 5 o’clock as I walked the dark sand under the gray sky.

 The wind and salt stung my eyes. Tears softened my focus. Emptiness was everywhere. I walked south, climbed the dunes and found shelter and stillness inside the small snack shack at the end of the beach.

 Out of the wind, there was warmth. I sat at a table, enjoying the absence of what I had escaped. I thought about when i was a boy and sought and found similar solace alone in the house with my books.

 I have always been this way, I thought. This is me, alone. I looked it my emptiness, photographed it and brought it home.