This is where the sand meets the sea, and where the crowds meet the earth and the steel meet the sky at once. In times before these, there was something peculiar about such a place, something mysterious, building upward upon ruins or desecrating what was at once peaceful.
What has become an American prayer, called Manifest in our childhood textbooks,
branded capitalism by skeptics, ushered on by memories that choose to be buried
willingly or strong-armed or left to die, has been made new again.

This short collection was made over the course of 12 hours, divided in two separate seasons on the shore of Coney Island. Segmented by faces of people that have become apart of the landscape, known or unknown, unknowingly or with careful meditation, the place and the person define one another. They are glimpsed, eclipsed, in hundredths of a second, then lost again. The images here are mere meditations on the preciousness and obscurities of change.