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May 2001 A somewhat exotic looking capture.
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May 2001 Photoshopped version of the previous pic (adjusted levels). More of a dreamy fantasy-like atmosphere now.
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May 2001 Surfers, doing what they do.
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The hills here are alive with the sound of wooden posts rotting away. I'm not sure if these were part of some ancient fence or maybe a hitching post gone astray.
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This pipe leads out into the ocean. What it does, I couldn't say for sure. All I know is that each time I pulled on this lever a half dozen partially digested goats would be ejected from one end. So yeah, draw your own conclusions.
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Alex, reminded by the rusting fence of his time in a minimum security prison, stopped talking. We never found out what his crimes were.
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The wind was relentless on the cliffs that day. So much so that Christine marveled at how quickly "evidence" would be scattered.
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Always carry a spear when you go for a walk on the beach. You never know when the Cracken will emerge.
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I tried in vain to warm myself at this chimney. After several minutes I noticed that it wasn't attached to any kind of structure and therefore served no useful purpose whatsoever.
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A dead bird, the ocean, an oil platform. Sure, they're probably not related, but hey, fake symbolism is better than none.
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The floppy-hats fishing club meets Fridays and Sundays.
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A nice shot that I screwed up when I opened up the camera without rewinding the film first (the only time I've done that).
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A golden nugget of water.
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Beach bugs love drift wood.
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Weeds, ocean, island, sky.

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