Where Days Have No Names

After two weeks on the island, serenity has taken a foothold. It's nice to spend some time where the hours are measured by the tide and the days have no names. I'm surprised it only took a day to get back into 'island slacker' mode.
Nick had never been to the island before but it easliy exceeded his expectations. Tori has filled his head with wild images of ocean waves as big as houses and beaches going on for ever, and at his age they do.
The blue of the crabs' claws is brilliant, who would ever guess something so delicious would eat bait so stinky. The traps are hamemade - just how dad taught me when I was a kid on LBI. Right on the sound, the sunsets reflect onto the ceiling creating a glimmering dance of lights.
I'm still fascinated by old castles, as the setting sun rakes over the eroded sand the light and shaddow have a textured glow - I'll take more pics for my future project.
The ocean has done it again, time to move.