20151212-dsc_0552.jpg -

g., a snowy forest or a city street), or should we to something like a mystery or a romance?

In the viewfinder was a small, weathered pier stretching into a lake that hadn’t quite frozen over. On the very edge sat a single wooden chair, abandoned and dusted with the season’s first light snow. It looked lonely, yet defiant. He clicked the shutter. 20151212-DSC_0552.jpg

The chair was likely gone now, reclaimed by a storm or a bonfire, but in the digital amber of 20151212, it was still waiting for someone who would never arrive. It looked lonely, yet defiant

The wind was biting, the kind of cold that turns your exhaled breath into immediate ghosts. It was late afternoon on December 12, 2015, and the sun was already surrendering to a bruised purple horizon. Elias shifted his weight, his fingers fumbling with the dial of his camera. He wasn’t a professional, but he had a knack for being in the right place at the wrong moment. The wind was biting, the kind of cold