A misty morning, a slow walk, and the light that only lasts a minute.

There is a particular quiet that only exists before sunrise, when the sea and the sky share the same grey and the cliffs are still deciding whether to appear.
I walked for an hour without lifting the camera. Then the fog thinned, the sun found a gap, and for sixty seconds everything was gold. That is the whole job, really — to be there, awake, when the minute arrives.